Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
And paired with his tanned complexion? They were nearly radiant.
Also, there were his stupid eyelashes. No man who didn’t give one single fuck about the length of his eyelashes should be graced with perfect ones. Those should always go to the ladies. Especially the ones who cared. Because then they wouldn’t waste hundreds of dollars each week on fake ones.
Most of the time, everyone would say he had ‘dark eyes.’ But when you really studied them, like I stupidly did, well they weren’t dark at all. They were radiant. And beautiful. And I fuckin’ hated him for it.
“Why does your dad never settle?” he asked curiously.
I had the same damn question.
For years, my dad hopped from job to job, looking for something new and exciting. Then his grandfather passed away, left him some money, and he started his own mechanic business. Which was where I worked part-time when I wasn’t working my regular job as a welder.
So technically, I guess, I worked for my dad all over again.
I had a feeling someday he would leave that particular business to me, though.
“My dad is my dad,” I admitted. “The mechanic shop, that’s the only one that I think he truly has any loyalty to. He and your brother are the only ones that are ever there, and he works on cars so he’s forced to be there more than most of the other places. But I believe, in all honesty, he’s just a wanderer at heart. But he was stuck with kids and moms of his kids that sucked. So he was kind of locked down.”
“You think that if he didn’t have y’all, he wouldn’t have stayed around?” he wondered as we turned between two cars to cut the parking lot to get to his bike.
“I think that if he had half the chance, he’d be gone, and he wouldn’t be back. That’s why I’ve practically raised Alison and Toddy myself. Because he just doesn’t… have it in him,” I admitted. “I love my dad fiercely, and he’s always provided for me. Us. But it’s like asking the sun not to shine. My dad just loves experiencing life. And we kind of hinder him from doing that.”
And why the hell was I telling my mortal enemy this?
“I didn’t know you even had sisters until the other day,” he confessed.
I’d gone out of my way to hide them from him.
Because, though he was a good man to everyone else, he wasn’t a good man to me.
“And I can’t believe Price wouldn’t tell me,” he grumbled.
Price, Tide’s brother, was a mechanic at heart. He used my dad’s shop to fix up his old vehicles. He spent a lot of time at my dad’s shop with my dad.
But there was one thing…
“My dad doesn’t bring his kids around if he can help it. It cramps his style,” I pointed out. “Honestly, I think it’s just that he has better things to talk about. And I’ve literally heard him admit that he has four kids to like four people total. When we’re around, and we meet someone new, he doesn’t even admit that we’re his children. He introduces us by name. Not relation.”
I winced.
Because that made my dad sound horrible.
Dad was a good dad.
He fed us, housed us, made sure we were healthy.
“Hmm,” he said, making me wince.
I wasn’t painting a good picture of Rock “Hound Dog” King.
“He’s a good dad,” I grumbled as we finally made it to his bike.
Tide grabbed the helmet that was on his seat and handed it to me.
“No.” I shook my head. “Your helmet. Your head.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What?” he asked, surprised by my words. “Why? I was trying to do the gentlemanly thing.”
Tide? Gentlemanly? Yeah, fucking right.
“And since when have you ever tried to do that when it comes to me?” I questioned him.
He opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again with a click of his teeth.
I was right and he knew it.
“Just put it on,” he ordered, practically shoving it into my chest.
But when he did it, he didn’t realize I was as close as I was, and the helmet nearly knocked me back a foot.
He cursed and then pulled back, but I rolled my eyes anyway.
“Even if I did want to,” I said. “I don’t put other people’s helmets on my head. Or anything. If it’s not mine, I don’t wear it.”
He tilted his head. “Why?”
I was already itching.
“Lice,” I answered. “I had it one too many times as a kid, and I refuse to put anything on my head that’ll possibly make me catch it.”
He snorted. “I don’t have lice.”
“No,” I agreed. “You probably don’t.”
Emphasis on ‘probably.’
That’s the thing about that nasty little gross thing called lice. Most people didn’t know they had it.
Like the clap.
Most people don’t go around intentionally giving the clap to people they do.