Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“Hello?” Well, if we were going to get into this, I didn’t see a point in farting around. If Gunner called, it was only ever for a specific reason. “Do you need something?”
I was pretty sure it wasn’t my imagination that he seemed to pause, and then he asked in a tone that I knew was aggravated because that was basically the only one he had, “I was calling to see if you could come in and close tonight.”
Not a question, a statement.
Did I need my job? Not anymore.
Did I want it? Nope.
Did I feel obligated to keep it because my friend still worked there and I felt super guilty leaving her there alone? Yes.
But he couldn’t fire me for not coming in on my day off, riiiight? Especially not after I’d already stayed late twice last week. And he’d bitched at me yesterday for talking to a member for too long.
“Hi, Gunner. I can’t make it. I’m not home and don’t have my car on me, but I’ll be in tomorrow.” For my scheduled shift. Sucker.
I almost asked what happened with whoever was supposed to work; I was pretty sure it was one of the new girls, but… well, I wasn’t walking into that shit. I didn’t care that much.
“There’s no way I can get you to come in?”
Wow, someone was desperate. This was after he’d gone on a rant about us not working a second over our schedule because he wouldn’t pay us a dime over our allotted shifts. Then literally twenty-four hours after that, Asshole #2—another one of the owners—asked me to work an extra shift. They made no sense.
“Yeah, no. Sorry. I’m really not at home and won’t be for a while.” I made a face at my lap.
Gunner responded with a gruff huff, but whatever. You reap what you sow. Be an asshole and you get treated like one. He said, “Bye,” and hung up on me.
Ahh, the sweet taste of always being right. I made a face at my phone before dropping it back into my purse and focusing again on the two friends in the front. They were talking about… Trevor? Zac’s manager?
“…still pissed about havin’ people over. He made it seem like I burned the house down,” Zac told him with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “My ear is still ringin’.”
I kept on eavesdropping, but the wing place was really close to my apartment, and it only took about five minutes total until we pulled into the lot. We all got out, and maybe it wasn’t nice, but I made sure to move fast before Zac got out of the car. I went straight for giving Boogie a hug.
“Damn, B, did you do your hair for me?” my cousin asked as he pulled away.
I groaned at him as I took a step back too. “I straightened it for work.” And then I wondered why I usually put some effort into how I looked when we went to do things. “Are your socks matching today?”
My cousin chuckled as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his perfectly dry-cleaned slacks. The only thing not absolutely perfect about him were the sleeves of his blue button-down that he’d rolled up to his elbows, one was slightly higher than the other one. I’d bet he’d fix them as soon as he noticed they weren’t even. “They always match.”
“Overachiever,” I said with a snort just before a hand that wasn’t mine or my cousin’s landed on my shoulder.
I had to remind myself for just about the hundredth time that this was all fine. That I hadn’t invited myself to be here. That I wasn’t an inconvenience and that some people genuinely went out of their way to hang out with me because they liked me.
And I needed to get over myself. I really did.
“I still can’t get over that you’re an adult,” Zac told me a second before his arm—heavy and muscular—draped over my shoulder like it was second nature, like he’d done so a thousand times years ago, and his hip came into contact with my side. I was pretty sure even his cheek came to rest on the top of my head, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t tense at his touch. At his familiarity. He’d been so happy to see me at his house a few weeks ago, but… it still didn’t make sense to me. Unless it was an act, but…. “How have you been?” he asked, with this expression… with this tone….
Was he asking about the last two weeks or the last ten years?
“Good, you?” I answered, certain I could hear the tension in my voice, so I sure as hell didn’t look at my cousin who knew me too well.
“Pretty good, kiddo,” the tall man replied, affectionately squeezing me into his side once more. Catching me off guard as well. Confusing me too, if I was going to be totally honest with myself.