Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“Talk to me, Skittles. What are you thinking?”
“I’m fine, Eli. Stop worrying. I’m just worried about Cammie and wondering if I’m making the right decisions. I just need some time to think.”
“Cammie will be happy in Corbin, Daphne. It’s just a change, but that’s not always a bad thing.”
“Maybe,” I allow. “Am I doing the right thing starting a business though? That’s dicey and I’m not sure I can afford to take chances right now. Dane doesn’t need any help trying to get custody of her. I need to choose my next steps wisely. That’s all I’m saying.”
He goes silent. Maybe I expected him to proclaim his love for me, maybe I didn’t. Yet, somehow the silence feels wrong. There’s nothing I can do about it. I close my eyes and just pretend to sleep.
I just need to think.
Chapter 22
Sabre
I may have to slap my future new son-in-law. You never tell a woman you care about them. That makes them feel about as important as the peas on your plate that go untouched.
Lord, Latch you need to send down some help here. He’s a good man, but he’s stupid when it comes to women.
I rub the back of my neck. I have a lot I need to sort out here. I just don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to do it. It’s not like I’m good at this relationship thing. Mine with Latch was easy. Women are too fucking complicated.
When we pull into Daphne’s drive, I think we all breathe a collective sigh of relief. Well, everyone but Pez. He deserves the misery he’s going through, though. I’m going to slap him upside the head if he sent my girl running. Today, she was just starting to let her guard down completely, and then he ruined all his progress with one stupid word.
“Hey, Pez. Can you carry Cammie in for me? I need to check in with the club right quick.”
“Sure thing,” he answers, and I can tell he’s in his head.
I’ll deal with that later. I have something else that needs to come first. I watch as they walk into the house together—the vision of the perfect family. I’m going to make it happen if it kills me. Once they disappear, I head down to the small brick home on the other side of the street. I hope like hell that Cammie told me correctly. It’s only eight in the evening, but I doubt this is the kind of neighborhood who would like a biker showing up on their doorstep. I’m not sure I’ve seen a neighborhood who’d like it to be honest. People will always have their prejudices.
I ring the doorbell as I look around the home. It’s cute, not too big, not too small. There are flower beds out front filled with bright and vibrant flowers. Definitely not my scene, but it does feel peaceful. I do like the rockers on the front porch. I shake my head. Maybe I’m getting tired of living at the clubhouse. I’m older. I need to get my own home again. I sold the place that I used to share with Latch and Annie. There are too many memories there. Some are really good, but others still give me nightmares. It takes a minute, and I can hear a clicking noise. I imagine she’s checking the peephole and wondering what in the hell a biker is doing at her door. I don’t expect her to answer when I ring the bell again. When she opens it, she shocks the hell out of me.
“Hello?” she asks, not opening the door all the way, and keeping the storm door closed and locked. That’s smart, but I need her to know I’m not here to hurt her.
“Hey, I’m looking for Ms. Grayson?”
“That’s me,” she says, and I can’t stop the laugh that comes out. Cory gives me a pointed look, letting me know she’s not happy. Cory fits her much better than Ms. Grayson.
“I’m sorry. It’s just you’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” she asks, her gaze looking over me. It’s sadly not in a sexual way. No, she does it as a woman who takes everything in and categorizes it in her brain for later. She’s super aware of her surroundings and I have to admit that’s kind of sexy.
“An old woman with gray hair up in a bun? I thought you could be using a walker, or a cane maybe.”
Her lips tremble as if she’s holding in a laugh. “Maybe you should introduce yourself, so I know for sure who you are,” she suggests.
I could kick myself. “Sorry, it’s just that you came as a bit of a shock. I’m Daphne’s father.”
A giggle escapes her, and I swear it’s the sweetest sound I’ve heard. “That explains it,” she says, and I find myself staring into her