Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 160732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
My robe was short, lilac and a light, soft, knit cotton-flannel. It had once been not-so-light, but I’d owned it for so long and worn and washed it so much (at one point, post-Rogan-debacle, I’d worn it for days), it was now thinner, but more comfortable and soft as a baby’s skin.
I shrugged this on over my little pink nightie and tied the belt. Then I went to the kitchen, made coffee, toasted Pop-Tarts, and once the coffee was done, I took it and my breakfast out to the deck.
I set my mug on the railing and sat down, eating my tarts, leaning forward to grab my mug and take a sip when I needed it, my gaze to the view and the calming sound of a not very rapidly flowing creek serenading me.
All you could see, left, right and center, was tranquility.
It was just trees, and a creek, and the gravel lane that led up to Buck’s house.
But there were also hummingbirds. And squirrels dashing about.
I wondered one day if I’d see deer.
Yesterday, I’d discovered that the roads leading up to his place had houses like Buck’s, tucked in the trees.
Still, whoever planned the lots and built the homes did it for maximum solitude. They were there but you had to search to find them, a hint of roof, the sun gleaming off a window, a chimney.
If you didn’t make that effort, you could feel comfortably alone.
Once done with my tarts, I took the plate inside, put it in the dishwasher, refreshed my mug, went back out and settled again in my chair.
The minute I rested my feet on the railing, Minnie’s words hit my brain.
And he chooses you, Clara. If he decides to make you his old lady and do that official, he’ll always come back to you. And that’s something. I promise you, babe. Not blowing sunshine up your ass. Especially with a man like Buck, that’s definitely something.
She would know. She knew him better than me.
Then I thought of how Ink was with Lorie, how Cruise greeted Pinky and held her close, and all the many ways that Buck could be gentle, sweet, funny and protective.
From what they said, Lorie and Pinky put up with what they had to put up with to get what they got from their men.
And what they got, I noticed, was good.
Other men, I knew, were not so good.
Like my adoptive father, who left my clearly mentally ill mother to try it alone…and fail. And he never came back, not even when the child he’d assumed responsibility for had no one else to turn to.
Then there was Rogan.
Also Esposito.
I stared at a view I knew, down deep in my heart, I would never fail to find beauty in, to gain peace from.
I did this knowing I was right to go the way of the biker babe.
This was not what Rogan did. This was not hiding it and breaking trust.
First, Buck and I hadn’t been together a week. We hadn’t had the exclusive conversation.
Though I knew what we had was something.
I also knew it was something for him.
It wasn’t that I was living with him, all moved in and everything.
That was necessity.
It was that I’d met his kids, and according to Gear, they’d never had another of Buck’s women in their lives.
Not even Nails.
So this was most assuredly something, for both of us.
But he’d done what he’d done practically under my nose, and although this did not seem de rigueur in the biker world with the way the girls had reacted to it, it was still part of the life they led. And maybe Buck thought I understood that.
I knew, though, bottom-lining this, that in the end, if Buck chose me, I’d have something.
Something was always better than nothing.
That said, the important part was that the something I’d have with Buck, I knew from what he’d given me already, would be better than other men had to offer.
A lot better.
On that thought, I heard the door open and I twisted to see Buck walking out wearing nothing but jeans, displaying skin, muscle and tattoos. His hair was a mess and his eyes could only be described as “bedroom” since he looked like he’d woken up only a second before.
It was a very good look.
And there it was.
Proof that with Buck, something was a whole lot better than nothing.
“Hi,” I said softly.
His good morning was to walk up to me, cup the back of my head, bend at the waist and kiss me hard and with lots of tongue.
It was the best good morning I’d ever had.
Oh yes, with Buck, that something would be a whole lot better.
His mouth released mine, but when I opened my eyes, I was surprised to see his were displeased.
“You wake up early, babe, when the kids are sleepin’ or whenever, you fuckin’ wake me, yeah?”