Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
He broke the spell, came toward me, I scooted out of the way and he “dropped his shit” in my closet.
He then walked out of my room, and I watched every step, marveling that such a big man could hold that kind of forceful grace.
Hugger’s new spell was broken when Muzzle shouted, “Fish is getting cold, and I’m not slavin’ over this oil to present soggy-ass fish!”
This made me smile again because, call me crazy, but I was beginning to like these guys.
5
CRAP
Diana
It was the next morning.
I was dressed, ready for the day, and preparing for dinner that night.
When I’d come out earlier to start coffee, I saw Hugger on his back on my couch (which I’d made up with a sheet on the sofa, another for him to pull over him, a blanket and two extra pillows, and I’d also pulled off the back cushions—still, he engulfed the space).
He had an arm thrown over his eyes. And as far as I could tell, outside his boots being on the floor by the couch, he still had his clothes on from the day before.
Last (something I put right out of my mind the second my eyes landed on it), there was a gun lying close to him on the coffee table.
He didn’t move as I made coffee.
When I came back out, dressed and ready for breakfast, he was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the coffee table and sipping from a mug. His hair was messier than normal. Even his beard seemed messier than normal.
Both were fabulous.
More fabulous, he’d stripped the couch and everything was folded and tucked away on the floor on the far side so you couldn’t see it.
Bikers tidied.
Who knew?
He gave me a sleepy-eyed look (that was even more fabulous, by, like a lot), got up, and without a word, strolled down the hall to my room.
I made some oatmeal, trying not to think of Hugger in my shower when I heard it go on.
I ate it, failing not to think of Hugger, naked and slippery, in my shower.
I was getting out the Crock-pot when Hugger showed.
I ceased moving entirely when I saw him in a black tee stretched tight across his pecs, faded jeans, his hair wet and combed back from his face, making the handsomeness come out in stark relief.
Topping that, his quickly drying hair curled up at the back of his neck, which added a one-two-knockout punch of cuteness to his handsomeness.
“Do you want breakfast?” I forced out.
“Yeah,” he said, going direct to the coffeepot, and I sure was glad I made a full pot, because it was clear he imbibed his caffeine like I did.
“I have oatmeal,” I told him. “I can make you a smoothie. There’s also cereal.”
“Cereal,” he said, shoving the pot back in.
“Cupboard over by the wall,” I replied.
He spooned two sugars into his coffee then wandered over to the cupboard.
He sipped as he opened it.
He then whistled low and added, “Shee-it.”
I was not confused by this response.
“I’m a grocery store aficionado,” I informed him.
“I can see,” he muttered, ignored the Fruity Pebbles, the Cap’n Crunch, the Lucky Charms, the Cocoa Puffs and the Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and homed right in on the Trix.
I approved of this choice.
“Bowls in the cupboard by the dishwasher,” I said as I set up the Crock-pot.
He went there and I watched as he got down a pasta bowl, not a cereal bowl.
I almost said something, just to give him shit, but decided against it and instead just smiled.
He didn’t need instruction on where to find the milk.
He’d just poured and put the milk back, when he pulled his phone out of his back pocket, looked at it then looked at me.
“Big Petey’s here. Whatchu gotta do to let him up?”
“Buzz him in. It’s that console over there.” I tipped my head to the wall. “Hit the green button, that’ll let him in to the vestibule. Then hit the blue one. It gives him five minutes to call the elevator and will allow him to tag my floor.”
He went and hit the buttons. He returned to his cereal.
I went to the refrigerator to get the chicken breasts.
When the doorbell rang, Hugger moved to answer it.
He came back as I was arranging the breasts in the bottom of the Crock-pot.
I froze for a second time that morning when I laid eyes on Big Petey.
He looked like a biker grandpa, with emphasis on the grandpa.
The good news about this was, it was unlikely Suzette would have any issue spending time with him. Like all the other guys, he was rough around the edges, but the kindness in his eyes was not hidden.
The bad news was, if trouble came calling, I was pretty certain Big Petey wouldn’t be much of an obstacle to it finding its prize.
“Pete, this is Diana. Diana, Big Petey,” Hugger said on a series of grunts before he went back to his mug and his bowl.