Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I scrambled out of bed and turned the light on, grabbing my purse from the top of my entertainment stand. Dropping back onto the bed, I reached inside and pulled out the stack of envelopes that people had handed me as they left my graduation party.
It had sucked that we’d had to wait so long after graduation to actually have a party, but I was thankful that my parents had understood. It had taken me weeks to make a schedule where I could take two days off in a row, and I couldn’t describe the relief I felt about the break. The party had been exactly what I wanted—just family and friends, hanging out and having fun. Nothing fancy. Just time together, a little booze, and an epic game of softball.
There were all kinds of envelopes in the pile and I made myself go through them slowly, one by one. Some of the envelopes were plain white, like something you’d send a letter in and on the outside were short messages.
Congratulations!
Way to go, kid!
Congrats!
To the college graduate!
None of those envelopes were signed and none of them had anything inside except cash. I was pretty sure I knew who they were from, though. The bachelors. Our family made up the bulk of the Eugene branch of the Aces MC, but not all of it. There were other men, most of them single, who me and Kara had started calling The Bachelors when we were in high school. They were gruff. Quiet unless they’d been drinking. They didn’t call attention to themselves often, but when they did they were usually hilarious. And I would’ve bet all the cash in those envelopes that they hadn’t signed them because they didn’t want me to thank them. They were more comfortable in the background and didn’t want me to make a big deal out of it.
Which was incredible, considering the amount of money they’d given me.
There were cards from my aunts and uncles that my aunts had clearly bought and signed. Cards from my cousins and siblings. My parents. One from Poet and Amy that they’d both signed, with five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills inside.
Everyone had given me money. Not a single card was empty. Not one. Some of them were smaller amounts, but many of them had at least a few hundred dollars inside. I couldn’t believe it.
I could take my damn car through the car wash. I could buy a reading lamp for my bed. I could—God, the possibilities were endless.
I looked at the cash spread out on my lap. I could also put it all toward the business.
I was running my hands over the bills, letting the paper flutter between my fingertips, when there was a knock on my bedroom door.
Bishop poked his head inside and his mouth dropped open a little in surprise. “Can’t say I was expectin’ to find you covered in money.”
“I wasn’t expecting you at all,” I said with a laugh, gathering up the money. “I thought you were headed to bed?”
“About that,” he replied sheepishly. He came inside and shut the door. “Turns out bailin’ on you in the middle of the night means I can’t fall back asleep.”
“That’s cute,” I said, my lips twitching. “You know I wasn’t mad, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, walking toward the bed. “Guess I got used to havin’ you next to me. Now my bed is too cold.”
“You sound like a country song,” I replied as I stuffed the cards and cash back into my purse. “But I’m not complaining.”
“You’re not?” he asked, dropping my purse onto the floor.
“Who will I knee in the balls if you’re not in bed with me?” I asked jokingly, falling back on the bed as he leaned down to kiss me.
“I must be a fuckin’ masochist,” he muttered against my mouth. “Scoot over.”
I moved over to make space for him and let him pull the blankets over us.
“I’m wide awake,” I said with a sigh as he maneuvered us onto our sides, his knees tucked in behind mine.
“You want me to tire you out?” he asked, kissing the back of my neck.
“That’s okay,” I replied, lacing my fingers with his. “I am tired. Just wide awake. I can’t turn my mind off.”
“Downside of bein’ the boss,” he said sympathetically. “You still lovin’ the cart now that you’re in charge of it all?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Yeah,” I said softly. “I really do. I like seeing the customers and making them something that starts their day off good. I like mixing new drinks and trying new roasters to find the right fit. Making sure the cart looks organized and welcoming and homey. Not a huge fan of the paperwork—” that was an understatement lately. “But even that isn’t all bad.”
“That’s good,” he replied. “And it’s rare, honey. Most people search their whole lives to find the thing they love to do.”