Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
I silently suck on my teeth and wait for the kid to inevitably speak.
“You outta be nicer to her.”
“Yeah?” Turning to face him is followed by crossing one foot in front of the other. “Maybe you outta be less nice, Kid.”
“Maybe I’m just the right amount of nice.”
“No. The right amount of nice was lettin’ her in to take a leak last night after you thought I was out. Not makin’ her ass a plate of our food and playin’ ‘please touch my monkey wrench’ until one in the morning.”
“What’s wrong, Nolan?” He folds his arms across his chest and leans his ass against the small island that houses our coffee machine. “You pissed she might’ve wanted to touch my monkey wrench and not yours?”
“Well, well, well, would you look at that,” I taunt back, snark undeniable. “Your balls finally dropped.” A sardonic smirk pops onto my face. “Mitzvah or whatever.”
He lets his crystal stare narrow in my direction.
Love The Kid.
I really do.
He’s…The Kid.
But when it comes to cars and chicks that’s exactly what his twenty-five-year-old ass still is.
A kid.
Too excited, too eager, too stupid to possess any sort of self-preservation.
Which is what I’m here for.
Whether he likes it or not.
“Care to fucking move, so I can get some coffee, or do you need to make hard eye contact with me while you describe your prom night in great detail?”
An exasperated exhale precedes him grabbing one of the clean cups near the machine and filling it up. Once’s he’s finished mixing in two spoonfuls of sugar, he walks it over to me like some sort of peace offering for thinking with his dick instead of his actual brain. “She’s running from something, Nolan.”
“I know.” Switching the mug from his hand to mine is easily done. “And the last thing I need is whatever’s chasing her, hurting you.”
“You mean us.”
“That’s what I said.”
Kipp quirks can eyebrow yet doesn’t verbally argue.
He knows better.
He knows there isn’t a goddamn thing on this planet I wouldn’t do for him.
It’s why he keeps the place stocked with cold beer, fresh Twinkies, and soft fucking toilet paper.
Outside of this apartment, he knows I’ve got him.
Doesn’t matter what he needs.
Doesn’t matter what the problem is.
I know it?
I solve it.
Plain and simple.
Doesn’t matter how complicated or violent or fucking bloody the shit is.
Making sure he’s alright is all that matters.
Inside the apartment?
I guess he tries his best to reciprocate.
He makes sure I get enough to eat.
Enough sleep.
Enough coffee in my cup and on the occasion, pussy on my face.
Our…life together…makes fucking sense.
For us.
It has since he was eighteen, and I swore he’d never wear another bruise on his jaw.
Not from his old man.
Not from fucking anyone.
And to this fucking day he hasn’t.
And that’s not shit that’s gonna suddenly change because there’s a pair of great tits in need of a tune up downstairs.
The two of us exit the apartment, taking the stairs down into the shop in silence.
He’s pouting, but I don’t care.
Alright, I do fucking care, but I’m not gonna let him know that shit.
It’ll pass.
He’ll rub one out to the thoughts of her and her tongue ring rolling around his dick and snap out of it.
Worked for me.
Hell, he can do it twice if necessary.
“Morning,” Kipp bashfully greets the woman contorting herself to brush her teeth in her side mirror.
Or…maybe not.
Bunny offers him a tiny pinky wave in return before flashing her middle finger at me.
Eh.
Not the coldest welcome I’ve ever had.
Hell, it ain’t even the coldest I’ve had this week.
“Sleep okay?” The Kid questions while sliding behind the counter. “Want some coffee?” He adjusts his rarely worn navy work shirt as if it matters. But it doesn’t. No matter which way he tugs it, he’s not going to look anymore grown up. He’s still just a kid too concerned with getting his dick touched instead of his bank account stuffed. More interested in chasing his wet dreams than dreaming about getting the fuck out of this shithole town. “I can go grab you a cup. It’s freshly made.”
She swishes around the water in her mouth before spitting it back into the water bottle, she’s holding. “Depends.” The nuance with unreal legs twists the cap back on. “Did your mutt over there drool in it during the process?”
“I can,” I coldly retort prior to having a sip of my own beverage from beside my best friend.
“No,” Kipp rushes to reassure. “I made the coffee. I…always make the coffee.”
“Aw,” Bunny theatrically pouts, “can’t teach the old dog new tricks, huh?”
Speaking over his low chuckles isn’t difficult. “Depends on the type of carrot you’re willing to offer, rabbit.”
Her bright brown gaze widens to the size of the rims hitched to her under inflated tires. “What the fuck did you just call me?”
“Wasn’t on the list of names to avoid, sweetheart.” A victorious smirk slaps itself onto my face at the same time I place the cup on the counter. “Although, you might wanna add it now.”