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)
I guess I was just hoping that if I ignored it, it wouldn’t come up.
She was tall, stacked, and beautiful. I could ignore a lot of things when the owner of that body gave great head, took care of me, and loved that I was a rough biker.
But, sadly, the society functions had come up.
And I’d had to let her know that I wouldn’t live in her world.
Which had pissed her off, and now she was calling me every single day to ask me if I changed my mind and would go with her.
I wouldn’t.
I wouldn’t step back into that world for anyone, not even her.
My parents weren’t bad people.
But my brother, who had known how to manipulate my parents since he was a kid, was.
And I wouldn’t go anywhere near him ever again if I could help it.
“Whoa.”
“What?” I asked, glancing where Preacher was now staring.
I felt my mouth go dry when I saw the waitress on the other side of the room man handling a table and chairs back into position from where they’d been smushed together for multiple occupants to sit.
I watched as the muscles in her thighs bunched and retracted, and damn if I didn’t feel Preacher’s “whoa” in my soul.
That woman had great legs.
Like Carrie fuckin’ Underwood.
My god.
She was bent over the table, pushing the large table with the power of her hips. When she was bent over slightly, I could see straight up the back of her shorts, and let’s just say, I was really likin’ what I was seein’.
“If that doesn’t help you get over Elisha McClure, I don’t know what will,” Cutter joked.
I turned back toward my friend, one of my fellow brothers in the Truth Tellers MC, and asked, “Do you think Milena would like you lookin’ at another girl?”
“Please,” he snorted. “We’re not blind. I just caught her watching goddamn Riley Green on replay on YouTube TV today because she thinks he’s sexy as fuck. We’re human, and we can appreciate the human form. I’ll never do anything but love her for the rest of my life, but a man has eyes.”
“True,” Preacher agreed.
Preacher wasn’t actually a preacher.
Preacher was an AC repair man, and an online-ordained minister that married people for fun.
He’d gotten his name ‘Preacher’ because he’d officiated at the marriage of our club president, Webber.
He has married quite a few people since then, too.
The military kid came back to us with our drinks and said, “We’re only doing grilled cheese.”
I grinned. “I heard.”
“We can put anything that you want on it, hell, we can make it a patty melt, but when it’s just us in here, it’s easier to just make the sandwiches. We ran out of potato salad and macaroni when some rich bitch came in here and bought it all for a work function. And my mother agreed to it because she was thinkin’ ‘oh, this is great, let’s get rid of all the food so we can make more money.’ But she wasn’t thinkin’ about how we don’t have time to replenish the stock, or the fact that we’ll have people coming in here wanting something other than grilled cheese and fries.”
I nodded, but it was Cutter who said, “We order grilled cheese anyway. They’re the best.”
We didn’t get over here often.
The diner, Hodges, was well out of the way of anything and anywhere that we went or did. It was on the very outskirts of Dallas, right off the interstate, which was why it was as busy as it was—which admittedly wasn’t all that busy most of the time. But for us, it was well over forty-five minutes away from the clubhouse, and even farther from most of the club members’ jobs.
The only reason we were out here today was because I’d invited the boys to come out to the ranch—the place that I owned and ran—to get free food and beer if they’d help me fix a couple of barn doors.
The only takers I’d gotten were Cutter and Preacher.
Though, the rest had said that they would take me up on my offer this weekend if I still needed help.
They’d spent the morning with me building the barn doors and fixing up places that needed patched, and I’d kept them full up on beer and then had offered to take them to the diner for lunch for a break.
Which led us to here and now.
Hodges really was fuckin’ great.
I loved it, and was ordering food almost every other day. Though, most of the time I sent my ranch hand, an eighteen-year-old wanna-be bull rider that had better luck grooming the bull than riding it.
Hodges was about eight minutes from the ranch, and usually I didn’t have the time to just go out and get the food because there was too much to do at home.