Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Jimmy’s nose didn’t fare too well.
And then Jimmy’s older brother Johnny came to the house ready for a fight.
His nose didn’t look so hot in the end either, and my bike tires were right there with him.
That was the first time my mom grounded Crew. Discipline was new to him, being his parents didn’t parent at all, but my hot, older neighbor crush turned foster brother took it in stride. Mostly.
He did sneak out the window once, but only so he could chaperone my eighth-grade dance alongside Memphis. Pretty sure my dad was in on that one, though.
Why else would the alarms on the windowsills mysteriously be off that night?
The second time he was grounded was when he boxed the kid across the street's older brother for fun… and a crisp hundred-dollar bill. He used his winnings to pay for his baseball uniform before my dad had a chance to cover the fees for him. Pretty sure my dad only pretended to ground him that time.
Crew never did well with handouts, always working to earn his keep and fighting for that sense of independence.
Sometimes literally.
Maybe if I weren’t slightly intoxicated—heavy on the slightly—I’d still fear the wrath of Crew Taylor, but for some reason, I find the sharp angles of his forever-frustrated facial expressions quite entertaining.
He’s pissed, but I warned him good and well.
If you really think about it, it’s his fault I’m here.
It’s not until a girl with dark hair stretches her arm across his chest to try and reach whatever it is he’s blocked that he shows any sign of life.
Familiar with his surroundings, he lowers the bottle back into its place without so much as a glance, drapes the cloth over his shoulder, and leans forward on his forearm, bringing us eye level.
He pushes my twenty back toward me. “Go home. Now.”
I tap my lip as if contemplating his command, but I don’t get a chance to say a word.
“Davis.” He says my name like a warning. A hot, growly one. “Go. I will call you tomorrow.”
“Why? So you can deny me in the daylight?” I grab hold of the chair beside me, attempting to hoist myself into it, without looking away as he had with the bottle, but I slip a little, forcing me to focus on the task at hand. Giggling at myself, I hoist my body up and turn to him once more.
He stares, shock drawing a line between his brows. “Are you drunk?”
“This is a bar, is it not?”
“You just walked in.”
“Maybe I drank earlier. Maybe I didn’t.”
“You’re going home.” He yanks the rag off his shoulder and tosses it to the counter.
“I just got here!”
“I don’t give a shit.” Crew begins curving around the edge we’re near, so he can get to the same side I’m on, but even as he passes person after person, he keeps his eyes connected to mine with each and every step.
He’s almost to me now, his lips pressed in a firm, angry line.
“Well, fuck me! Is that my future wife?!”
Crew stops midstep, and my attention snaps toward the voice, to the blur of bronzed skin flying around the opposite side of where I am.
“Drew!” My smile is wide. “You’re here, and you’re… wow.” My gaze falls to his strong neck, up and over his strong shoulders, all to drag back down to the deep cuts visible through his army-green shirt. Damn.
“You’re like… wow, wow.”
Hands lock into the armrest of my barstool right then, and my shoulders are nudged a hair. My neck stretches to glance behind me, finding Crew pressed at my back. He’s so close I have to lean forward an inch to see his face. The way he stares down his nose like a disappointed father has me ready to roll my eyes, but my knee is nudged, so I turn back to his brother.
“My god, Drew. What did you do in Yosemite, wrestle bears and eat them for dinner?”
Drew’s smirk is playfully insufferable as he leans down, wrapping his arms around me until I’m lifted off the seat. “You look good too, wifey.” He kisses my cheek.
“Back behind the bar,” Crew barks, his palms coming down on my shoulders, pressing my ass back into the black leather.
Drew’s dimples grow more defined, and he lifts his hands. “Don’t shoot. I was only hugging the girl.” He looks to me quickly. “I’ll find you later and fill you in on them bears, huh?” he teases, tossing me a wink as he gets back to work.
I sigh, watching him go.
The genes in that family, I swear.
Swift and sudden, my chair is spun, causing my hands to shoot out and latch on to the faux leather for dear life.
Crew is there, bending to my level, his musky, minty man smell all up in my soused senses.
He glares, and it’s as glorious as ever.