Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
In this case, however, the gossip came straight from our favorite Texan, Colt.
The short story was that August had his eyes set on a triad that included Ivy and a switchy boy named Ev, with whom Colt had served in the Air Force. But Ev was stationed elsewhere, and Ivy wasn’t interested in a relationship.
Just like I’d rather not get involved in the drama including Cam and Lucian, I was sitting this one out too.
River appeared around the same time I was cramming barbecue chicken into my mouth, and he tossed me his phone before sitting down on the other side of Ivy.
Wait, it was his phone, right? I had mine in—yeah, my jeans. Right here.
“Text from Shay,” was all he said.
I didn’t like that tone.
Furrowing my brow, I brought the phone to life; it recognized my face as River’s, and I opened the text messages.
There was a picture of a swimming pool and Shay showing a thumbs-up.
Dropped Levi off at a friend’s place across the river, and this is their apartment complex’s pool. It just became my dream home. When I leave Weasel’s house, I’m gonna find a place like this. See you soon, kiss Daddy from me.
Across the river… I reckoned he’d been in Arlington or Alexandria, then.
I knew it was way too early for Riv and me to worry about the fact that Shay’s dream home might always be in DC. Much, much too soon for us to think about that. In fact, it was ludicrous. And yet… Motherfucker.
This relationship nonsense with all its irrational thinking and feeling was horseshit.
After a cancelation on a guest room booking, today became the first in a while that we didn’t have any members staying over. Not in the main house anyway. Even Tate and Ivy had returned to the city.
Shay showed up around four, and we spent a few hours in and around the pool, taking it easy, hashing out Saturday plans, and I did my best to just enjoy the moment. When I failed miserably because our boy happened to be fucking amazing, I headed back to our cabin for a cold shower.
Focusing on our kink dynamic wasn’t the easiest when he insisted on being so goddamn sweet and funny.
It was a noticeable change whenever he came back from spending time with his brothers. Shay was coming into his own and relaxing in our relationship. He wasn’t reserved whatsoever anymore, and he was cuddly and…just imperfectly perfect.
I’d thought Riv and I were supposed to bring the mindfucks into our dynamic, but Shay had his way of making our brains spin too.
As I stood between our bed and the dresser, stepping into a pair of boxer briefs, I heard the door open downstairs.
“Daddy?” Shay called.
“Just getting dressed, sweetheart. What’s up?”
“Colt said that you and he play guitar together sometimes. Can y’all do that after dinner?”
Oh. It’d been a while. I’d have to tune mine. “We can give it a go, but I might be rusty.” I pulled on a white tee, then reached for a pair of River’s cargo shorts to borrow.
“Colt says you’re awesome at it!” Shay responded in triumph. “I’ll go tell the others!”
I smiled at his enthusiasm and buttoned up my shorts. Time to give the newborn head case in me a damn rest. Shay hadn’t given me any reason to actually worry. The opposite.
Fourteen
Shay Acton
I wanted to save this evening and play it on repeat for the rest of my life.
I didn’t even mind that it was country music Daddy and Colt were playing. If anything, it was the perfect genre to let their whiskey voices and Southern drawls shine.
With only some candles lit between us—except for a dimmed-down porch light—it was as close as I’d gotten to experiencing a bonfire on the beach. Reese and Colt occupied the chairs across from River and me, and they were seriously amazing on guitar, both of them. Not to mention their singing. There was nothing amateur about it.
After taking a sip of my soda, I scooted closer to River and hugged my knees to my chest.
At the moment, Colt and Daddy were just tinkering and trying to decide on the next song.
“Daddy, you have a more pronounced accent now,” I noted.
He smirked faintly and eyed River.
“We lost our accents years ago,” River murmured. “Comes out when we’re drunk, basically.” And when Daddy was playing.
“You’re not from NoVa?” I’d thought they were local, despite years living in all sorts of countries. I’d learned that they had lived on all the major continents.
“We have four proper Southerners in our group of friends,” Colt informed me. “These two—even though they don’t always deserve to bear the title—Walker, and yours truly.”
Colt was the most obvious one. Walker—well, to be honest, I hadn’t heard much from him before River had put headphones on me, but I did remember he’d sounded more Southern than anything else.