Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
I would imagine so, seeing as there had to be over fifty recliners in the large open space. Some light brown. Some dark. Some old. Some new. Some leather. Some fabric.
“Which one is yours?”
“The one with the sheriff’s blanket on it in the back there,” he pointed to a recliner in the very corner of the room.
“I might have to steal that blanket,” I admitted. “Looks like you went light with leggings and a t-shirt.”
He looked down at his arm that had my clothes hanging off of it.
“I grabbed what was on top of the laundry pile,” he admitted. “Your panties are in my pocket.”
I flushed. “Thanks.”
I was happy that he hadn’t just had them flapping away on his arm. And also there was this sick thrill that went through me that not only had he found me a pair of panties, but he’d also shoved them into his pocket. Almost like a souvenir.
“Let’s head to my room, then you can grab one of my sweatshirts,” he suggested.
I followed him, wondering why my belly was swarming with butterflies all of a sudden.
Eighteen
All oopsies, no daisies.
—Gentry’s secret thoughts
Gentry
Her panties in my pocket felt like they’d been burning a hole there since I’d picked them up.
When I’d gone into her camper, she’d had a fresh pile of laundry—fresh from my washer and dryer—sitting on the counter right inside the door.
I’d spotted the leggings and t-shirt on the top, but I’d dug down to find a pair of underwear.
When I had, I’d hit the motherload at the bottom.
All pink and lacey, the scrap of fabric had looked tiny.
It was barely a bulge in my pocket.
“This is a long hallway.”
“It’s a long building,” I agreed. “It used to be a steel mill. I think it’s something like two hundred and twenty feet long. At some point in the past, it was turned into a ranch so the horses are housed on the other end of the building.”
“I can tell,” she said. “Feels like we’ve been walking forever. How do you even know which door is yours?”
I pointed at the ground. “There’s paint on the ground. Some of the guys have their doors decorated by their wives or kids. Plus, I’m the twentieth door down on the right.”
“Jesus,” she murmured. “Is that at the end?”
“Almost. There’s a big ass bathroom beyond my door that used to be a locker room. Now it’s just got extra toilets and showers in case anyone needs it.”
“Is there a boys’ and a girls’?”
“If you go into the individual bathrooms off the rooms, you have privacy. But the locker room is free for anyone. That’s where all the guests go.” He came to a door and pressed his thumb to it.
“Lock on the door?” she asked.
“I don’t like finding random people in my room fucking,” I said. “They’d never done it, but sometimes when the guys get drunk, this hallway’s pretty damn long, and they might just go into any room. It’s happened to others. But I didn’t want to be one of them. I have trust issues.”
I liked my space just like that—my own.
I was pretty particular about who went in and out of my room.
Some of the others had locks, but not all.
I didn’t have that kind of trusting mindset, and probably never would.
Not just because of all the shit I had to deal with during prison, but also thanks to the life I’d led before.
People, even family and friends, would always disappoint you.
Though I was slowly starting to figure out that the Dixie Wardens MC brothers weren’t anything like what I’d thought they would be.
I was still learning, but every day they came through for me, whether small or big.
Maybe one day I’d be able to trust them fully.
But not yet.
“The code is 4518,” I said.
Her hand went to my arm. “Dean’s birthday.”
“Dean’s birthday,” I confirmed, a sense of loss hitting me at the mention of his name. “He’d be seven today.”
“I know,” she said softly, squeezing my arm. “He would’ve been just like you.”
She pressed her finger to the dent in my chin and smiled.
“The one in Dean’s chin was cute as fuck.” I chuckled as I dropped her clothes to the bed. “The bathroom is through there.”
She picked up her clothes and then held her hand out to me.
“Oh.” I grinned and pulled out her panties, dangling them in front of her.
Her cheeks flushed. “Of course you would bring the smallest pair I own.”
“It’s not my fault,” I said. “I just picked the ones that were the cutest.”
“And the smallest,” she snorted and toed off her tennis shoes.
I eyed the shoes. “I brought you shoes, too. They’re still in the truck, though.”
“You brought the truck?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “It’s cold. I didn’t feel like bundling up.”
She smiled. “Sweet.”
She walked into the bathroom and kicked the door closed.