Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“I don’t mean anything by it. We had fun last night. I like you.”
“So you think that coming here, despite me not answering the phone, is still acceptable?” I countered. “You’re polite. You know good wines. You have a good job, and for all I know you could be the totally perfect man. But I just buried my husband a year ago. I have two kids who need to be my focus. What I don’t need is a man on my doorstep without an invitation, no matter how polite he is. The date was nice. But I’m not ready. My kids are my main focus right now.”
I delivered this with a little less ice than before, but made sure I was firm.
The mask flickered once more. He was pissed at this. At me holding firm. “This was a mistake. I was over eager. I apologize.”
“Apology accepted.”
“I can’t even try to make my case over coffee?” he pushed.
This fucking guy.
“There’s no case to make,” I informed him. “I hope this hasn’t disrupted your day too much. If you don’t mind, I have a lot to do.”
Despite my anger, I had the strong urge to add an apology in there somewhere, as women tended to do. It was something hardwired into us, that need to apologize for disappointing some guy. Hammered into us for years. We’d been convinced we must say sorry for speaking our minds, for occupying spaces men wanted to own. Even knowing that Edmond was in the wrong, I couldn’t help but feel the need to protect his feelings ever so slightly by offering some sort of apology.
But I held firm.
I had nothing to be sorry for.
And you could bet your ass that men didn’t apologize when they didn’t have anything to be sorry for. Most of them found it hard enough to say sorry even when they were in the wrong.
Edmond was no different. “Of course. But I have to warn you, I’m not going to give up on you. I feel something between us. And I understand that a new relationship might be scary to you right now. You may not feel ready, but I’m willing to wait. Willing to prove you wrong.”
Was he fucking for real?
No matter how gentle I had tried to be, he wasn’t getting it. Apparently, I’d have to lay it out straight, I had no other choice, then his face would change, and he’d label me a bitch.
He was the type. I was seeing that now.
Lucky for me, I wasn’t afraid of some lawyer in a suit. I’d spent far too much time around real badasses in leather to get scared by a man who spent more time on his hair than I did.
“Babe?” the voice sounded from behind me before I could start my well-deserved bitch tirade.
I was so shocked that I didn’t fully process it as Kace managed to not only open the door but sling his arm around me. He was also shirtless.
I didn’t fight this because I was so stunned. The look that Edmond was giving the both of us was pretty damn good too.
“We help you, bro?” Kace asked Edmond in a tone that communicated ‘fuck off’ in not so many words.
Edmond recovered quickly. I’d expected nothing less. Any pleasantness on his face was now gone, his expression curled into a scowl that could only be worn by a cocky, entitled man who’d been rejected by a woman.
“Ah. That’s it. You weren’t gonna let me in because you’ve already let someone else in. Once a biker slut always a biker slut.” There was nothing polite in his tone. Just bitterness. Foul, rotten anger.
Now, I had definitely expected some kind of tantrum. Harsh words. But this surprised me. Interestingly, it didn’t piss me off as much as it had when he was being nice.
Kace, on the other hand, was pissed off. His entire body tensed with fury. His jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. Basically, he transformed into a deadly biker not afraid to knife a guy. Or shoot him in the face.
“You better feel fucking glad I don’t want to stain the doorstep of my woman’s home with blood ‘cause this is where her kids walk in,” Kace said calmly. “You speak another fucking word, I’ll forget that. Bleach ain’t that expensive after all.”
Edmond paled, and it was incredibly satisfying, if not juvenile, to feel the way I did as I watched fear overcome him. I moved my arms around Kace’s hips. Not because I wanted to feel him or anything, but because I was worried he might make good on his word. He definitely seemed that pissed. And no one wearing a Sons’ cut was about to let an Old Lady—widow or not—be called a slut in front of them without doing some serious harm.
Though I would say, it wasn’t completely terrible having my arm around Kace.