Rumi – The Hawthornes (The Aces’ Sons #10) Read Online Nicole Jacquelyn

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Mafia, MC Tags Authors: Series: The Aces' Sons Series by Nicole Jacquelyn
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
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There was a silent pause on the other end of the line. “Okay,” Nana said, perplexed. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I didn’t have to go home. Not yet.

My shoulders sagged in relief as I turned on the car and headed for Rumi’s.

Chapter 9

Rumi

“You didn’t warn me you were painting,” Nova accused, standing in the doorway of the laundry room. “You invited me over with false pretenses!”

“We didn’t say what we were doing,” I pointed out, grinning as she scowled. “We filled in all the little holes and textured earlier.”

“Then Rum broke the fuckin’ paint gun and now we have to paint this shit by hand,” Brody grumbled, using a roller on the biggest wall.

“It’s kind of soothing,” Olive said contemplatively from her perch on the ladder. She was painting around the light fixture trim with a paintbrush.

“It’s not soothing,” Nova argued. “It’s boring. The most boring activity in the history of the world.”

“So dramatic,” Olive chided, laughing.

“I can’t paint in this,” Nova told me flatly. “Oh, well! Guess I’ll have to watch TV. Let me know when you’re done!”

“She’s helpin’,” Brody said darkly, glancing at me as I set my own roller down. “If I have to do this shit, Nova does.”

“You’re all a bunch of whiners,” I joked over my shoulder, following Nova into the living room.

“You didn’t tell me you guys were painting,” she said, scowling at me as she leaned against the back of the couch. “I hate painting.”

“You’re in a good mood,” I replied facetiously. “Joyful, even.”

“I can’t paint in this.” She gestured to her work uniform.

“Come on,” I said with a sigh, dragging her toward my room.

“Probably not a good idea while your cousins are here,” she joked in a sotto voice.

I looked at her. “You can wear somethin’ of mine.”

“Oh, right. That’s what you’re doing.” She stood in the doorway. “Except, you know, that I hate painting.”

“Nobody likes paintin’,” I pointed out as I grabbed a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt covered in grease stains. “You’re helpin’ out a friend.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have an organ?” she asked hopefully, catching the clothes I threw at her. “A kidney, perhaps? I have two.”

“You’re such a baby,” I shot back as she came farther inside and started to strip down. “Oh, just goin’ to do that while I’m still in here, huh?”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before,” she mused as she pulled her pants off and folded them.

“They don’t know that,” I reminded her, pointing my thumb toward the doorway. “You okay with them knowin’ we’re fuckin’ around?”

Nova paused for a second and then shrugged. “They’re painting, it’s not like they’ll follow us in here.”

I was watching her in profile and I could only see the left half of her body, but let’s be honest here, I would take what I could get. So, it was only because I was looking so closely that I saw her flinch when she pulled her shirt off. It was barely anything, but I still noticed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, moving closer.

“What do you mean?” Her tone didn’t invite questions which made me even more curious.

“What’s wrong with your arm?”

“Nothing.” She looked at me like she had no clue what I was talking about, but this was Nova. She couldn’t fool me.

“Let me see,” I ordered, grabbing her hip so I could turn her.

The bruise on her arm was gnarly. I traced it with my fingertips, barely touching it because it looked like it fucking hurt. It started about a third of the way down from her shoulder and ended right above her elbow. The center was darker, like it had taken the brunt of the impact and it lightened toward the edges.

“What the fuck happened?”

“I bumped into the doorframe when I got home today,” she said, pulling her arm away so she could pull on my T-shirt.

“You bumped into a doorframe?” I asked dubiously. “What, were you runnin’?”

“I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It looks nasty.”

“It looks like it hurts.”

“It’s not that bad,” she replied, shaking her head. “Do you have a hoodie I could wear? It’s kind of cold in here.”

I figured she was trying to hide the bruise from Brody and Olive, but I gave her a hoodie anyway. Brody was a mother hen, and we both knew that he’d make a big deal about the bruise and I figured she didn’t want to deal with it. Bumping into the doorframe seemed unlikely, so maybe she’d done something embarrassing and she didn’t want to tell me.

So, I let it go. It was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made, but I had no idea until much later.

“You stayin’ the night tonight?” I asked, reaching out to run my finger down the crack of her ass as we walked toward the laundry room.

“You want me to?”


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