Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
“Wow.” He looks at us with a grin. “Looks like it’s an overnight hit.”
“Having mega hot, famous husbands will do that.” Layla winks, passing him his keys from beneath the bar.
“I guess so.” He chuckles, his keen eyes moving from Julius to Drew, and every other male employee we have in here tonight. “You girls sure you’ll be okay? I can stay until the boys’ plane gets in, no problem.”
“Problem.” I laugh. “Mom called twice already, and said Evie is asking when Grandpa G. will be home.”
Layla smiles, shaking her head as she starts pouring shots for a group of girls. Her daughter has claimed my dad as her best friend, thank goodness for that since his own grandson has chosen his grandma as his. Crew says as Max gets older, he’ll make the swap from grandma to grandpa, and it’s adorable he felt he had to explain all the reasons why it would happen, as if my dad was worried or sad because of it. He constantly reminds him how he’ll need his grandpa to help teach him to play ball and change a tire, and all the other things my dad taught Crew, that Crew wants my dad to carry on and teach our son.
My dad only smiles, knowingly watching the love the little guy has for his gram. Not to say he doesn’t pout. He does, especially when we go over for Sunday dinners and Max reaches for my mom first, but my two-year-old takes after his mom, as my dad’s learned—his attention can be bought with treats.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, glancing at the screen, showing it to him. “There she is again.” I smile.
“All right, I better get out of here before this place is too packed for me to move. Let me know if that door jams again, and I’ll be back to fix it.”
“I will, thanks, Dad.”
“Love you. Good luck, girls.” He begins to walk away. “Stay behind the bar!”
“We know!” we sing-song.
Minutes later, we’re left with no room to talk. The DJ is slaying, and the crowd is swaying.
It wasn’t ideal—for Crew and Willie, that is—that the grand opening of our new club was set for the same night as their newest fighter’s debut fight.
But us girls took over operations on both the bar and brewery three years ago, combining both businesses under one umbrella and becoming fifty-fifty partners in both, while the men worked their asses off getting their new MMA training gym off the ground. They now have seven fighters signed, and dozens of others attending an array of classes they offer.
Life is busy, full, and more than I could have ever dreamed it would be.
The night blows by, me and Layla using our bartender school skills to make a show out of serving our customers.
When an entirely new type of ruckus reaches our ears, Layla and I meet each other’s smirks.
Boys are home.
Crew
There’s something carnal about walking into a place created, designed, and run by the woman you love that makes you want to puff your chest out in honor of being hers.
And I’m nothing less than honored to be the man behind the brilliant fucking woman who does more in a day than I could in a week.
My gorgeous glowing woman, tucked behind a bar, flipping bottles into the air and spinning with a laugh as she does it.
And I thought she wouldn’t want to be a part of this world. The girl fucking doubled down on it and created something better, dove in headfirst and swam deep. Her ideas are endless, and while I’ve tried to convince her to revamp Sideways Sippin’, even back during the rebuild six years ago that took us five fucking months, she refused to make any changes to what I had created outside of ones that increase profit. She wanted the place to remain the reminder, should I ever need one, that I can do whatever I put my mind to, even when it feels fucking impossible.
Still don’t think I deserve the woman who’s now my wife, but I sure as fuck love how deeply she disagrees, and there’s no doubt in my mind she knows what she means to me.
I remind her every chance I get. With words… and in plenty of other wicked ways.
Thank fuck for grandparents and babysitters.
Speaking of babysitters.
My Sweets thinks she’s slick, that I’m oblivious to what she’s trying to hide.
She couldn’t be more wrong.
I know my girl, I know her body, and I know there’s a tiny little human growing inside it again.
A sibling for Max.
Another friend for Evie.
A second niece or nephew for Drew to look out for.
For Memphis to watch over.
Sidling up to the bar, I lean against it, Willie having already hopped over to wrap himself around his wife, but I play stranger, and Davis bites her lip, desire building in her pretty brown eyes.