Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“It’s not even about me.” She shook her head tiredly and crossed her arms over her chest. “You were just looking for someone to hit. That’s how it always is. We’ve already been banned from two bars forever and I’m guessing you’re still pissed that guy didn’t fight back.”
I ground my teeth together, refusing to respond. Was I disappointed that the dude had practically cried instead of standing up for himself? Yeah, a little. But he wouldn’t have even been on my radar if I hadn’t seen him creep up on Myla at the bar and put his hands on her when she wasn’t paying attention.
“He’s gone, yeah?” Cian said, throwing his arm over Myla’s shoulders. “Forget it.”
Myla sighed as she let him turn her back toward the table. “Yeah, until the next guy that looks at Titus wrong.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” I promised as we reached the table.
“Yeah right,” Myla’s best friend Frankie piped up. “When have you ever been on your best behavior?”
“Up until he was seventeen,” Myla replied, shooting me a look.
“Shut it, Myla,” I warned. We’d been down that particular conversational road about a thousand times.
“Oh, yeah,” Frankie said, staring into space. “I remember those days. You used to wear little shortie shorts. It was hot.”
“They were running shorts,” I shot back as I sat down next to her. “You little freak.”
“You still wear those?” she asked teasingly. “’Cause I could come by sometime. Sit outside in my car. Follow behind you. Just to keep you safe, you know.”
I watched her for a minute. “You talk a big game but I have a feelin’ if I ever so much as looked at you like I wanted you, you’d crawl under the table in horror.”
Frankie laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “Hey, maybe I want you to look at me like that.”
“Bullshit.”
Frankie sighed dramatically and fell back in her seat. “Fine. You’re right. But who else am I going to flirt with?”
“That was flirting?” I asked, lifting my beer. “You should probably work on it.”
“You’re such an asshole,” she replied, but she was grinning.
I liked Frankie. Myla’d had a lot of friends growing up, but only two who had gone the distance. Myla, Frankie, and Lou were like the three musketeers. If you saw one of them, you knew the others weren’t far away and by their sophomore year in college, they’d moved in together in the house Myla was buying from our dad.
So, yeah, I liked her. She was cool as fuck. But I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole and we both knew it.
Seven of us had met up at the bar, but the place was so loud that you could barely hear anyone speak unless they were sitting right next to you. I zoned out as the conversation droned on around me until Cian leaned over. “You get the website for the garage all set up?”
“It’s functional,” I replied with a nod. “Nothin’ pretty yet. Need to get some more photos tomorrow if the weather isn’t shit.”
“You think it’s gonna bring in more work?”
“Fuck, yeah.” I scoffed. “Don’t know how they’ve kept the place goin’ so long without one.”
“Word of mouth,” Cian replied, saluting me with his beer. “We’re that fuckin’ good.”
“Why is it so hot when you swear?” Lou asked Cian, raising her voice to be heard across the table.
“It’s the accent,” Frankie yelled back. “Fookin’.” She shivered dramatically, grinning.
“Thanks, darlin’,” Cian called back, laying the accent on thick before turning toward me again.
“You grew up here,” I said flatly. “It barely even comes out anymore.”
“Only when I need it to, yeah?” he joked.
“Careful with who you’re tryin’ to reel in.” My sister was unsurprisingly quiet on the other side of Cian.
“I’d never go there, and you know it. Lou and Frank are just givin’ me shit.”
I shrugged and leaned back in my chair. Going out with friends was fun, but the bar scene was getting old. The club parties were a little more my scene, but only when the old ladies weren’t there and I didn’t have to see my mom hanging all over my dad. Patching in to the Aces MC had never been in my plans growing up, but shit changed. After a little snafu that sent me home early from my junior year in college, I’d bowed to the inevitable. I didn’t regret it as much as I’d thought I would.
The club gave me an outlet that I hadn’t realized I needed and it provided a consistency that I hadn’t noticed I’d been missing. As long as I was loyal to the club, they’d be loyal to me. There was something about that knowledge that settled me. I’d had to spend two years as a prospect instead of one because I’d gone back and finished my senior year of college but I hadn’t minded. By the time I was done, I was a full-fledged member just like my older brothers.