Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Going back to work, I definitely wasn’t in a good mood. My damn mood only got darker the longer that the night went on. And, hours later, as I glanced across the street and saw all the lights off, still, at nearly nine at night.
“Hey, do you want to go grab some dinner?”
I looked over at Hunt, who’d been working on his computer in the corner of my bar for the last two hours.
“Umm,” I glanced at the clock. “There’s nothing open.”
He grinned. “Get that old man to cover for you for an hour. I have a place that’ll hook us up.”
Doing just that, I rode out on my bike two blocks away to the corner store that served the best damn burgers I’d ever had.
Only, when we got into the parking lot, I fully expected nobody to be there since they were usually closed at eight. However, there was one car that was vaguely familiar parked in the front.
And when we got inside, I knew why it was familiar.
Because I saw that car parked outside of a certain office right across the street from me.
Had seen it every day for a week since I’d moved in.
“Glad that I don’t have to pull any strings,” Hunt murmured as he walked inside.
Out of all of the men that had joined the MC with me, Hunt was by far the easiest and the hardest to get along with.
I wasn’t sure how to even explain Hunt McJimpsey.
He was the resident hacker of the group.
Tall, muscular, and perpetually pissed off. He was by far the one guy that I wouldn’t call if I was in trouble, because I wasn’t actually sure if he would come.
Not that Hunt was a ‘bad’ guy, per se, but he was unpredictable.
When I’d met him and the others that were also fresh out of federal prisons—Trouper, Absinthe, Zach—I’d fully expected things to be weird.
Only, Hunt didn’t do weird. He acted like he knew me… which, I guess he did. He could pull up information about me that I didn’t even know myself—like my credit score.
That bad score that was probably even worse now that I owned a bar and was making payments on it as well as a new motorcycle.
Whatever, though.
I was pushing mid-thirties. I needed my own place. I needed a game plan. And I needed a damn reliable vehicle.
We walked inside together, him just in front of me, and stopped right inside the door.
Hunt let his eyes roam around the room.
But the moment I walked inside, I latched onto a familiar form with laser focus and didn’t look away.
Not even when a loud ‘we’re not open’ filled the room.
“Oh, come on, darlin’,” Hunt drawled. “We just want a burger, and you already have the grill on. And you’re the only place in town that’s still open… not to mention you have the best fuckin’ burgers in a five-county radius.”
Crockett, the owner of this particular establishment known as ‘Crockett’s Corner,’ looked at Hunt like he was nuts.
“Please,” Hunt pleaded. “Please, please, please.”
My lips twitched at his use of the word ‘please’ so many times.
In all honesty, he looked quite hilarious with his tattooed fingers folded out in front of him in a praying position, batting his eyes behind his thick glasses, and practically bouncing from foot to foot.
I wouldn’t have said no, either.
“Fine,” she sighed as she flipped the still-steaming grill back on. “But just know, I’m charging you double.”
Just as she said that, the doors opened again and Zach walked in, looking annoyed as hell and hungry to boot.
“Move out of the fuckin’ doorway,” Zach, the doctor of the group, grumbled. “I’m hungry.”
Crockett, who’d been in the process of lighting the grill, froze solid at the appearance of Zach.
“Good timing,” Hunt teased as he pushed farther into the room and walked up to the only table that didn’t have the chairs up on top of it. The one where Swayze was eating a burger in her long dress and practically ignoring the rest of us. “Do you mind if we sit here, madam?”
Swayze looked up, her eyes going from me to Hunt to Zach and back, and then shook her head. “How about you fuck off.”
My lips twitched at her words.
Hunt was already halfway down into the chair before he processed Swayze’s words.
“I’m sorry, what?” Hunt asked, voice surprised.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I said ‘fuck off.’”
Hunt’s mouth dropped open as he hesitated above his chair.
I walked around the table and took the chair across the table from her.
Zach was forced to take the one beside Swayze.
She latched onto my eyes and didn’t look away.
“I guess that y’all are hard of hearing?” she snapped.
My lips were already turning into a large smile.
“What happened to you?” I asked. “Bad ball?”
“Bad ball?” Hunt asked, reaching for a package of saltine crackers in the middle of the table and ripping it open. “What’s that supposed to mean?”