Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Now, she has my own fucking club doing it.
I throw the book so hard it slams against the wall—screaming as I do it. “Motherfucker!” My father goes completely still. His sharp eyes never miss a damn thing—even if he is getting older. I just let him stare at me, the rage inside of me nowhere near subsiding.
Dad stares at me. It seems like his eyes are boring into me, revealing pieces of me that I’m not ready for the man to see. Shit. I don’t know if I ever want him to. “Beau means something to you,” he finally exhales. His words are spoken so quietly that I almost have to strain to hear him.
“We had sex. I thought it was one thing, I’m pretty sure she thought it was another. The longer I go without seeing her, the more I think she was right and the more I want it to be like that, too,” I halfway explain. It’s confusing to even hear, but I’m pretty sure he gets where I’m coming from.
“You fucked up,” he hisses and it’s the first time I hear disappointment in his voice when it’s related to me. That sits fucking bitter in my gut. The hurt is so huge that I don’t know how to deal with it all. I mean both he and Mom were pissed when I got Robin pregnant. They immediately thought I was irresponsible and accused me of not wrapping up. I never told them the truth. I always wear a damn condom. That’s never been negotiable. It’s just my bad luck that it didn’t work. Well, I shouldn’t say that. I wouldn’t take anything for my Ty. My son is my world. Still, when we went to the health department for a fucking pregnancy test the doctor explained that ninety-eight percent of the time condoms work, but there is that other two percent. It didn’t help that Robin told me she was on birth control. Spoiler alert, the bitch was not. To this day I wonder if she didn’t do something to the condom. I don’t have proof, but Robin begged to put it on me. She never had until that night. I push those thoughts away. That’s water under the bridge that I burned ten years ago.
“I fucked up. I need to fix it,” I agree. My emotions are raw while I try and bury my past in the back of mind once more.
“Some things can’t be fixed, son.”
“This can. She liked me once. I can make her like me again.”
“No, son. You can’t.”
“I can and I will.”
Dad shakes his head. “You can’t, son. There’s shit you don’t know and never will. Trust me when I tell you, though. If Beau is done, she’s done. You need to walk away and put this behind you.”
I look at him. I’m not going to argue with him, but he’s wrong. If she changed her mind enough to pick the club back up, then I can make her give me another chance. I just have to find a way to get her to talk to me.
I just have no idea how to do that. Fuck.
Chapter 3
Beau
Two Months Later
“That’s it baby, take my cock.” His fingers bite into my hips as I rear back into him, meeting his thrust as he rams his cock inside me. “God, you’re perfection,” he growls.
I jerk awake in bed, sweat coating my skin. I force myself to sit up and do it while swearing I can feel Hunter’s hold on my body, branding me.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
It has been five months since I had sex with Hunter. Why I still fucking dream about him, I don’t understand. I may have thought I loved him—and okay, maybe I did love him—but we didn’t share what I thought we shared. I was just being stupid. The fact I’m dreaming about the bastard just makes me feel like I’m even more of a fool than he made me feel after our night together. Hell, I feel so bad after this dream that I wish I could go back to having nightmares about …
I shake my thoughts away. No, I may wish I could erase all memory of Hunter from my brain, but I do not need to invite any of the shit that has plagued me for years to make a reappearance.
My gaze moves over to my nightstand. I have to strain to see the time displayed because my eyes are refusing to fully focus. It’s just a few minutes past five. I’ve got to drag my ass out of bed, get up, take a shower and clean up. Then, I have to make potato salad, pasta salad, baked beans, and my sweet and spicy meatballs for the cookout to celebrate Slider’s—Gordo’s kid’s nickname—birthday. Incidentally, we call his boy Slider because he’s really good at baseball and slides those bases like he was born to do it. Gordo is one of our lead body men and his son turned eleven last week. Gordo only gets to see him every other weekend, so he rented a shelter at the Laurel River picnic area and is throwing his boy a party. I’m going all out to help because I love my family at the garage. Gordo is an extra great guy, though. His ex is kind of a bitch. I keep hoping he’ll find a good woman, but sadly, it has never happened. Today should be fun, though. All my guys will be there—even if they don’t have kids, they still all claim the title of uncle to Slider. Callum will probably bring whoever he’s banging this week, and Billy will bring his wife Rella. Every one of them love my cooking—especially Slider. So, despite the fact the boys will be grilling up burgers and dogs, I’m making enough of my junk to feed them all three times over. This is why I needed to get a move on. What I did not need is to have dreams about Hunter.