Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
“Fuck, it’s been a minute. How ya doing?” I say. Deke chuckles into the phone. We don’t talk all that much unless it’s to plan a poker night at his place or he needs something set up at a job site and can’t get it done when he wants it, how he wants it. Needy shithead.
“Good. You making it to poker tonight? It’s been a while since you’ve joined in.” He’s not wrong. Used to be I’d get the weekends off. Lately, with shit booming the way it is, I’m lucky to get a morning to myself.
“That’s the plan, as long as the phone doesn’t keep me away.” That and I get a damn shower. An emergency happened early this morning where a guy at a job site noticed a fuel tank was leaking. No one else was answering their phones except me, which meant I was the one driving to the site, getting dirty, and fixing it until a welder could come to repair it.
“Good, it’s been too damn long. What, a few months now?” More like five months. That first time I went over, there was no doubt about it that my eyes were searching for Emily. The girl who left me while I was still sleeping. Just because I said one night, that didn’t mean I was done with her. In fact, I’d planned on eating her for breakfast, letting her return the favor, maybe slide deep inside while she rode me reverse cowgirl. That didn’t happen, though. She was gone the next day, needing to be back for work, leaving me high and dry, wanting another taste of her. The last time I was at Deke and Kelsey’s, Emily was nowhere in sight, and with my fucked-up schedule, I haven’t been back.
“Something like that. I’ll bring the IPA you like. Same time, I assume?” I wasn’t going to call him. The invitation has always been an open one. Ever since he found Kelsey and settled into the life he has here in Alabama, he’s held a guys’ night.
“Yep, don’t need anything, but I won’t complain about beer either. This time, try not to take all my damn money, will you?” One time, I wiped him clean. Fucker isn’t hurting for money, just like I’m not. In fact, with the way his construction company now branched off in Alabama, I’ll bet you they’re raking in the money even more. That doesn’t mean the Hart family isn’t humble. None of the siblings and their parents let money take precedence. The same could be said for myself, minus the house I bought above asking price to get my own little slice of heaven on the beach. A two-story house on a small area with a private beach away from the tourists, fully remodeled, cost a fucking mint. It was worth it to me, not having the time to worry about contractors or someone doing a shit job and having to fire them.
“Can’t guarantee I won’t walk out of there with none of your money, but I’ll grab the beer. If you need anything else, let me know.” I’m trying to end this. Standing here stinking of diesel fuel isn’t my idea of fun.
“Alright, later. Oh, by the way, Kels will be here. Her sister might stop by, too.” I look down. It’s like my cock has ears of its own, hearing that Emily will be there tonight, because the fucker perks right up.
“Later.” I don’t respond to the Emily comment, already knowing I’ll once again jerk my cock to the memories of that night, like I have been all along. It’s not that I want a relationship, because I don’t. This job requires too much traveling, time away for weeks at a time, which leaves no time for a woman in my life.
CHAPTER THREE
emily
Pacing, that’s what I’m doing. Kelsey, the best sister in the world, told me a time to come over. That way, it doesn’t look like it’s completely staged. What I’m most shocked about is that she hasn’t shared anything about this charade with Deke. It’s so unlike my sister, but I’m thankful. When I left that morning, it wasn’t because I truly wanted to. I was worried about getting caught, drama ensuing at my sister’s wedding, and shit getting heavy. In all actuality, I should be on my way to Kelsey and Deke’s place. I’m not, though. Instead, I’m still wearing the carpet thin at my place. The same place I’ve had since I moved out of my parents’ house years ago. The rent is cheap, the place is updated enough for my use, and now that Beach Babe has a warehouse, there’s even more room. A two-bedroom, one-bathroom condo to lease by the beach is bank. My parents swear I should quit throwing away all this money every month and invest in a place to buy. Which, believe me, I completely understand, except for the fact that if you own a home, all of the responsibilities fall on your shoulder. Need a new roof? You have to deal with quotes and estimates. Need new windows? There it is again. Same goes with an air conditioner or anything else around the house. And while yes, I have a brother-in-law who would have no problem helping me out, relying on anyone isn’t my cup of tea. Not to mention if a faucet is leaking, or a flood happens from a toilet that won’t stop running, it’s me having to deal with cleaning up in the middle of the night. Sure, I’d have to deal with some of that here, but it’s different when the place is in your name and a bank loan is attached to it. So, while it may be smart for someone who is handy and doesn’t mind having that added worry, that’s not me. I’d rather not have that cloud over my head and throw money away like my parents insist on saying I’m doing.