Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
His head tilts to the side and the moonlight bounces off his sharp jaw. “Did she tell you anything?”
I run my tongue over my bottom lip, tucking my hair behind my ear. Doing all of the things I do when I’m trying to distract myself or—well, it has never happened yet—find someone attractive. Which I do. I think Wicked is the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. “A little bit.”
“And have you told her anything?”
My eyes come to his, and the way he looks at me is as though he can see right through my soul. “A little bit…”
“Yo!”
I quickly spin around and fall back slightly against Wicked’s chest. He doesn’t shift his weight. “What’s up?” I yell out to Jackson Paul as he trots his way down to my car.
He flings his shirt over his shoulder, his eyes drifting over mine and landing on Wicked. His smile disappears. “You good?”
“I’m fine, Jackson…” Jackson has had a crush on me all his life, but he’s respectful in a way that he’s allowed us to maintain a friendship.
“Who’s this?” He flicks his finger toward Wicked. “He coming in, or is he the reason little Miss Ruby La Rosa is leaving the party early…” Jackson hooks his arm around my neck to pull me into his chest, only Wicked catches my dress and yanks me back carefully.
I remove Jackson’s arm. “He’s a friend of my father’s, Jackson…”
His face instantly falls. His eyes widen before he flashes Wicked a wide smile. “Oh, hey, man. You wanna come in?”
Wicked grabs me by the hand and turns me back to face him. Everywhere he touches burns like a memory I’ve tried to forget.
I tilt my head up to look at him, only my eyes fall to his lips. The corner twitches.
“We’ll finish this at home.”
Then he backs away, stopping at Oscar’s door and leaning down to look at me over his shoulder slightly before going back to his bike. He fires up the Harley, and as the deep engine growls through the night, a sinking feeling drops to the base of my gut.
Why does he remind me of Papa already, and how is he already so comfortable bossing me around?
“You sure you’re okay?” Jackson asks, opening my door as I slide in.
“Yes. Just take care of Betty tonight.”
He shuts my door and leans in when I lower my window. “She good?” He gestures to the back seat and I look over my shoulder to see Poppy lying on her back.
“I’ve just got to get her home.”
“Alright, Skippy. I’ll see you later.”
I start my car and pull away, looking in my rearview mirror to see Oscar’s headlights beam as he follows. That space is replaced with Poppy’s head.
“Hmmmm. Interesting…” she murmurs, catching my eyes in the rearview mirror.
I go back to the road, squeezing the steering wheel with my hand to try to erase the feeling of Wicked on me. “What is?”
“My brother is going to change, isn’t he? This is just the beginning.”
I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t want to lie to her, but I don’t want to scare her.
“Let’s hope not.”
He is.
“He likes you, I think…” Poppy adds, and now I wish I had Betty in here to burn the conversation.
“Why do you say that?” I take the roads that lead to the city.
“He touched you.” She looks out the side window and I turn the music on to drown out both of our voices. She’s drunk and I don’t want her to say anything to me that she might regret in the morning.
The high black wired gates part when it senses my car coming and I pull in to the side of the house, right behind Wicked’s bike.
I turn off my car and open the door, letting Poppy out of the back. “I’m so hungry.”
“Well, we will go make you something to eat.”
She lets me pick her up out of the car and lead her to the front door. The house is quiet. Even when my parents are home, it’s like this. Dead inside. I was basically raised by the soldiers more than my parents. I was never upset about it, but now I guess I’d have to get used to having Wicked and Poppy here too.
Pushing open the front door, I lead her through the white and black marble foyer where the grand staircase leads to upstairs, and through to the kitchen. My mom designed this home and it was built before I was born, but along the way, they managed to keep things updated. It was the first thing she got to do as her hobby when she and Papa got together.
I pull out a barstool and place her down before flicking on the heating throughout the house.
“Okay,” I say, coming back in. “What do you feel like? We can order Uber Eats, or I can cook you something, but I have to admit, I’m not good at it.”