Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
They didn’t think it was so funny when they left with a broken nose and a ‘H’ sliced into one of their arms. I’m sure there will be some retaliation, but it’s bullshit. Don’t come to our house smelling like shit and not expect to get cleaned up.
Ranger and Jaxon are playing poker as I head toward the front door, ignoring the rest of the jabs and bullshit. First Baptist’s second service will be starting soon, and there’s that familiar twist in my gut knowing she’ll be standing outside handing out whatever the fuck churches hand out to people arriving for service.
I swallow hard and dig in my pocket for a stick of gum. It’s a bad habit but it helps me think and I need to fucking think right now. I bend it as I push the blue peppermint stick against my tongue and hear Troy as I straight arm the door out into the spring sunshine.
“Don’t forget, we’re meeting at the garage tomorrow, ten o’clock. Bring your iron, just in case.”
I don’t acknowledge him, which will probably get me a verbal beatdown later, but I’m focused on other things. Besides, I’ve never not shown up for a run, and Troy knows he can count on me, so he doesn’t need to talk to me like I’m a teenage pussy forgetting to do her chores.
We have a weapon’s deal going on tomorrow. Not as big as some we’ve done in the past but it’s still outside the law and we’re not meeting with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs either, so we all need to be frosty and on point when we go.
It’s a fucking beautiful day today though. One of those days that the air is just the right temperature you can wear almost anything you want. I’m a jeans, t-shirt and leather vest sort. Rarely do I vary the pieces, but I have probably twenty clean white t-shirts and the same number of Levi’s 505 button fly jeans folded in perfect squares on two shelves in my closet.
My balls twitch when I adjust to the outside light and look across the street, heading toward my bike. Kristina’s hair is down today. No braid like the first time I saw her. No pink bow or white dress. That day was special. She fucking blew my mind when I saw her the first time.
That first day, I marched across three lanes of traffic without looking, drivers honking horns and cussing me out as I made a beeline to her. By the time I was standing in front of her, her father, Leonard had stepped next to her and she kept looking from me to him, wondering what the hell was going on.
Her father had some choice words for me. There’s been no love lost between him and our crew for as far back as he’s been the pastor at the church, even though we’ve always been respectful of religion and that shit. But that day, I just ignored him, looked straight at her and introduced myself.
“I’m Wrath.” I said, and she squinted one eye at me and crinkled her nose. She wasn’t scared, more curious.
“That’s nice.” She replied, handing me a flier. “Sit anywhere you like but hurry, we’re about to close the doors.”
With that, her father told me to get lost and I just smiled and took a seat in the front row, watching her as she sang in the choir, then watched her father preach, her eyes betraying her every now and then as they settled on me before darting away.
Her eyes aren’t just blue. They’re the color of blue bonnets. There were fields of them around my grandparents’ house in the hill country in Central Texas, and they were my mom’s favorite flower.
Since that first day, she’s told me in no uncertain terms she isn’t interested and her father’s called the cops on me probably eight times. I don’t give a fuck. The law knows me by now and just because I’m in the parking lot staring at his daughter, doesn’t mean I’m breaking the law. The cops come, shake their heads at me and I shrug, give her father a wave if he’s around, rev my bike and leave.
But I always come back.
Like today.
I mount my bike, my eyes trained on her smile as she nods and hands out the little church fliers to everyone going inside the open double doors. Today she’s wearing a light green, sort of ruffly floral deal and white sandals.
I love her fucking toes. She paints each one a different color. The days I am able to get close to her and she’s not wearing sandals or something that lets me see her toes, I’m disappointed. The rest of her is just as good, perfect even, but her toes. Damn, I never knew I was a foot guy until I met Kristina.