Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
I’m really not in the mood for conversation but Chewy doesn’t seem to give a fuck about my need for solitude. The big, fluffy beast stretches out in the sand next to me and rests his chin on my leg.
“Oh my gawwwd,” the woman whispers, staring down at me with an open mouth. “The rescue told me he doesn’t like men.” She lowers her voice as if she doesn’t want to offend the pooch. “They think he was abused by a man.”
I run my hand over the dog’s head. “Is that your story, boy?”
“I’m Jenna.” The woman wiggles her fingers at me.
I squint up at her flushed face, hair swept up in a bouncy ponytail, sweatshirt and leggings. “Hi, Jenna.”
She doesn’t need to know my name.
Jenna frowns when I don’t introduce myself. “Is that your bike up there? The Harley?”
Knowing I’d probably end up traveling through another club’s territory at some point, I’d stopped home to leave my cut and grab a plain riding jacket and hoodie. Apparently, the jacket still gives me away.
“You ride?” I ask.
She lifts one shoulder and tucks her chin like she’s suddenly shy. “Only on the back.”
Are you shitting me? I may be avoiding Margot because I can’t figure out how to tell her what a piece of shit I am, but I didn’t ride all the way up here to fall dick first into the first woman I run into.
“That’s my girlfriend’s spot,” I say, even though I know Margot has no intention of ever sitting there.
She flashes an awkward smile. “Oh. Lucky girl.”
Not really. I nod and shrug.
“Come on, Chewy.” Jenna dangles the leash at him.
He side-eyes her but doesn’t lift his head from my leg.
“He really seems to like you. Do you have a dog?” Jenna asks.
“No, my girlfriend has a cat.” I wave my hand over Chewy’s head. “With a similar personality, actually.”
She laughs and I hold my hand out for the collar. She hands it to me, and I gently slide it around the dog’s neck and buckle it a notch tighter than it had been. “Sorry, bud. Can’t come with me. I don’t have room for a passenger.”
Chewy slides a look of betrayal my way, then jumps up and trots to his owner’s side.
“So…are you up here vacationing by yourself?” She bites her lip and flicks her gaze toward the parking lot. “Are you staying nearby? A lot of stuff is closed this time of year, but I can suggest some good restaurants or um, show you around. I just need to run Chewy home and…”
I tune out her chatter, considering the intention behind them. A year ago, I would’ve smoothly accepted her offer to “show me around” and probably been fucking her by now. She could be a nice temporary distraction from all the darkness bubbling in my head.
Who’s gonna know? No one’s even aware I’m here.
But all I can think about is Margot. Maybe she’ll tell me to fuck off once I confess how I treated Cain.
“Can I take a picture of you and Chewy?” Jenna says, pulling me back into the conversation. She holds out her phone. “I want to send it to the rescue and tell them—”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” I’ve entertained this chick long enough. I grab my boots and stand. Cain tracking me down from a photo in a magazine weighs on my mind. I don’t need Jenna taking my picture and sending it to strangers.
“Nice meeting you, Jenna.” I bend down and pat Chewy’s head again. “You too.” I point down the beach. “I’m going to continue my walk.” Alone.
“Oh.” Jenna turns bright pink. “Sorry. Sorry we bothered you.”
“No problem. Good luck with him.” I kick my way through the soft sand until my feet hit the wet packed-down stuff closer to the water.
It’s time to head home.
CHAPTER SIX
Margot
The next morning, a flurry of texts wake me up.
None of them are from Jigsaw.
Downstairs, I’m mid-yawn, waiting for a callback, when my father finds me in his office.
“Margot, one of the bikers is coming by today.”
My ears perk up. Bikers? Any biker in particular? “Oh?” I answer in a casual, disinterested tone.
“Something about security. He wants to look around before the Hall funeral.” Dad’s jaw tightens. “I’m starting to wish we’d never agreed to this. It’s turning into a circus.”
The urge to defend our client rears up but I also understand what my father means. The animosity between Abby and Ulfric hasn’t improved since our consultation. Abby’s called or texted me dozens of times. And since Ulfric’s footing the bill, I have to call and check in with him each time. Thankfully, he hasn’t said no to anything, yet.
“It’s a lot,” I agree.
“I have a call later with Ulfric about some financial matters,” my father says, his lips flattening into a grim line.
Better you than me. That’s one thing I’m glad my father doesn’t ask me to handle.