Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Oh, he’s beautiful,” Zoe cooed at him, but made sure she kept Lainey far away from the can opener Mackie called a beak.
“He’s got a mouth to rival mine,” I told her. “You want me to make the bottle or hold the baby?” I asked.
Zoe turned to me, head cocked to the side. “You know how to make a bottle?”
“It’s not rocket science. She’s, what, three months?”
“Yes. How did you know that?”
“So she’s on… four to six ounces?”
“Four.” Zoe’s lips parted as she looked at me.
“Two scoops then,” I said, pulling the travel canister of formula out of the diaper bag along with one of the bottles.
“How… how do you know that?” Zoe asked as I ran the water.
“I’ve led an interesting life,” I told her, filling up the bottle, dropping in the scoops, then giving the bottle a good shake as Zoe bopped the miserable Lainey. I tested the milk on my wrist, then reached an arm out. “Here. Give me her.”
“What? Why?”
“To sacrifice her to the fucking clubhouse gremlin. He’s picky—only wants babies or beef jerky. The fuck do you think I want her for? To give her a bottle.”
“I can—”
“Load up a plate and eat every bite so you don’t look like you’ll blow away at the next slight breeze? Yeah, you can do that.”
This time, when I reached for Lainey, Zoe let me take her. Probably more out of shock than anything else.
“Yep. It’s me again,” I told Lainey as she paused her wailing to stare up at me. “Food, Zo,” I demanded as Lainey took the bottle.
“I can’t.”
“Just said you could.”
“I’m… on the job.”
“So clock out.”
“Alright,” she agreed, reaching for her phone.
“That Italian is banging.”
“The owner, I think, was really interesting.”
“You met Tony?”
“You know him?”
“Yeah. He’s old friends with members of the club.”
“He fell in love with Lainey. Wants me to come in and let him talk to her for a while. While I eat. For free.” She sounded dubious.
“He means it,” I told her. “Take him up on the offer. He’s richer than God. He can afford a free meal. Speaking of a meal,” I said, nodding toward the food again.
“A slice,” she conceded, going over to the pizza boxes and pulling one out.
“So, why you carting around a baby doing deliveries? Where’s her father?”
“He’s… not in the picture,” Zoe said, a slice of pain moving across her face. But it was quickly replaced with anger, then something more like resignation.
“Asshole,” I said.
“You have no idea,” she said, mostly to herself before she took a bite. “Oh my God,” she groaned, eyes sliding closed.
I mean, yeah. Tony’s pizza was banging. But I got the feeling that was a ‘I haven’t had pizza in the better part of a year’ kind of moan.
If the baby daddy wasn’t in the picture, and she was trying to make a living doing food delivery—while juggling her baby—it didn’t seem far-fetched to assume there was no money left over for luxuries like takeout.
Fuck knew I understood that feeling really well. In an old life.
The back door burst open and a group of giggling bikini-clad girls rushed in, getting chased by Dixon.
“Sorry,” Zoe said, moving out of their way as they all made a beeline for the island and the food piled on it.
“Oh, look!” one of the girls said, looking over at me. “A baby!”
The door opened again, bringing in Caymen and Velle. Great.
“Whose baby is that?” Caymen asked.
“Mine,” Zoe said, half-raising a hand.
Velle’s gaze slid in her direction. “So, this is Zoe.”
“That’s me,” she said, shooting me a questioning gaze.
In my arms, Lainey fussed, likely bothered by the voices.
“Let’s take her somewhere quieter so she can finish her bottle,” I said, nodding my head toward the stairs. “Cherry, hand her another slice.”
“I’m fine,” Zoe insisted.
“Cher,” I said.
Cherry’s gaze slid over Zoe’s thin frame, then piled two more slices on the plate.
“Thanks,” I told her, going up the stairs. With each step, the noise got lower and the baby calmed more.
“She’s used to a certain amount of chaos,” Zoe said, following me into my room. “Given how I drag her around all the time. But that was a little loud for her.”
“It’s a little loud for anyone,” I agreed, shouldering my door closed.
I didn’t give much thought to my room before. Honestly, it was almost the exact same as it had been since I moved in.
Queen bed—the blue and white striped sheets were a gift from one of the club old ladies—two black nightstands with lamps you could find at any retailer, a dresser, and a TV.
Really, the only thing I’d added was the recliner I nodded for Zoe to sit down in as I sat on the edge of the bed.
I didn’t always sleep well, and it only made it worse to toss and turn, so I’d bought the recliner to sit in and watch TV until my eyes wouldn’t stay open any longer.