Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Cutter pulled a chair out for Milena, then took the seat next to her and said, “This place is like a little slice of heaven so close to Dallas. There’s not a single ounce of traffic here.”
“Maybe we should move,” Milena teased. “Would Shasha care, do you think, if we moved out of the million-dollar house he built for me?”
Cutter snorted and pointed out, “You’d miss being so close to Midnight Cookies and Cinnaholic.”
Milena nodded, then stared at Chevy’s plate. “Wow, what is that?”
“The sampler,” Aella answered. “But if you want some food, you’re probably gonna have to go up there and order it directly, because if I had to guess, our waitress isn’t coming back. Doc did something to piss her off.”
I rolled my eyes. “I did not do a thing.”
“You think you didn’t do a thing,” Aella and Silver said at the same time. “You totally did something.”
When you looked at Aella and Silver, you wouldn’t think they were twins, but they were.
Kind of, maybe.
Both of them had the same mother, but different fathers.
Aella’s father, Cakes, just found out that she was his, as a matter of fact.
“I feel like I should go order food.” Milena stood up and said, “You want anything, sugar pie?”
Cutter shot his wife a look. “Don’t call me that.”
“Snookums?” She batted her eyelashes.
“No.”
“Toots?” she pushed.
“Milena Clayborne…” he growled.
Milena walked off, giggling.
“She didn’t get your order,” I said around a mouthful of the best sandwich I’d ever tasted in my life.
I had no clue I had a thing for grilled cheeses until I came here.
Now, I couldn’t imagine going a single day without one.
“I feel like, possibly, it was me,” Silver said. “I think we passed her on the road.”
I frowned. “We did?”
“Yeah.” Silver nodded. “When we were riding. Thanks for the ride, by the way. I have to ask Webber if he’ll take a look at my car when he gets back in town.”
I thought about that for a long moment then decided that her being on the back of my bike couldn’t be why she was mad. Hell, there were times I wondered if she even saw me as a man.
I looked up and spotted Milena at the counter with Searcy.
Searcy was writing on a notepad with one hand, and digging at her chest, between her breasts, with the other.
I frowned and watched harder.
Searcy lifted her shirt slightly, and I saw a glint at her navel just before her forearm snaked up the inside of her shirt and started to fidget with her chest again.
She came back out with a round wire.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked.
“What?” everyone asked at once.
“She just pulled some sort of metal contraption out from under her shirt,” I said. “It’s in her hand.”
“That’s an underwire, dummy.” Silver snickered. “Most bras have underwires. Sometimes if you wear the bra a lot, the wires will poke through the fabric and start digging into your skin. She probably pulled it out because it was gouging her.”
“Oh.” I felt kind of stupid.
Logically, I’d known that there was some sort of support in bras, but I hadn’t realized that they were metal.
Jesus.
There was laughter at the counter, and when I looked up, Milena was pulling out her phone and showing Searcy something.
Searcy looked at it, then back at me, then back at the phone again.
I got a worried feeling in my belly.
“What is your wife showing her?” I asked warily.
Cutter looked up from his contemplation of the food on Chevy’s plate, likely trying to decide if he’d lose a hand if he reached for a piece of sausage, and said, “Probably that picture we took of you at our wedding party.”
I groaned.
That’d been the one and only time I’d been well and truly drunk since I’d gotten home from the Navy.
I’d just wanted a damn day off. Was that so much to ask?
But no, these asswipes had to take photos of me on the couch where they’d all decorated my upper body and face with Sharpie.
I knew that it was all in good fun, but fuck.
Was it too hard to just want a day off?
None of those fuckers knew what it was like to put in work, day in and day out, only to find out that you’re barely holding your head above water.
I didn’t even know why I was fighting so hard.
Dad had done it and what had he accomplished?
Dying before the age of sixty.
And he hadn’t gotten to enjoy life.
He hadn’t gotten to go on those vacations he’d always talked about.
He’d lost so much, and I was headed in the same fucking direction.
I scrubbed at my face. “I’m headed back to the ranch to get everything else ready. Cutter, can you show them the way out?”
“Sure will,” he said. “You gonna finish those fries?”
“No.” I pushed the plate toward him.