Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“I’m not. I don’t gamble, and I’ve never much cared about horses. But my daughter married into that world. I like to see how their horses are doing,” he said.
I had lived here most of my life and I’d heard about Hughes Farm being the biggest racehorse stables in the southeast. Men had talked about betting on one of their horses at Abernathy’s many times. The connection just hadn’t clicked.
“They have horses in this one?”
“This is a recap. Races that were held today. They aren’t major ones, but my grandson has his first horse in one of them. He came in second, and I was hoping they’d show him.”
His grandson had a racehorse! I watched the screen as the announcers continued to talk and show clips from different races, finding myself fully invested.
“How old is your grandson?” I asked.
“Cree is five. Eli is ten months,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the screen. “There, that one.” There was a trace of pride in his voice. “Demigod.”
The announcers began talking about Demigod and his owner being Garrett Hughes’s grandson and Blaise Hughes’s oldest son. They chuckled about having yet another Hughes take over the racing world and watching the first of many Cree Hughes’s horses on the track.
I glanced over at Liam, who was smiling as he listened.
“Did he name the horse?” I asked.
Liam nodded. “Yeah. His mom has been reading him some kids book series about Greek gods and their kids or something like that. I don’t know exactly. But he’s very into it.”
I set the empty plate down and curled my feet up under me as I leaned back on the soft leather.
Liam’s eyes moved from the television to my legs before looking at me. “You’re full?”
I nodded. “Yes, but I’m a fan of leftover pizza.”
His eyes dropped back to my bare legs. “Are you cold? Need a blanket?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
He seemed appeased, then took another slice from the meat lovers box. I scanned the room. There were very few personal things or decorations. There was a wall with several frames that hung in a fashion that I doubted Liam had done himself. Not that a man couldn’t decorate, but this was Liam.
I studied the photographs, realizing most were of one little boy, who I assumed was Cree. There were two with the boy and a baby. My eyes stopped on one that was an older photo. Faded with time. Two teenage boys leaning against the front of Liam’s car. One was grinning with a cigarette clenched between his teeth. Then, there was Liam. Even without the beard, I could tell it was him. His arms were crossed over his chest, but a beer bottle hung from one of his hands. They were both shirtless and wearing jeans. He was tattooed, even back then. Not as many as he had now, but they were there.
“How old were you in that photo?” I asked.
He turned to look in the direction I was studying. “Seventeen,” he replied.
“Who is the other guy?” I asked, wondering if it was one of the men at the clubhouse I’d gotten to know.
“Tulsa. He was my best friend. We grew up together,” he said, turning his attention back to the television. “You met his son, Micah.”
I remembered Country telling me about Tulsa, but I didn’t dare mention it. I also knew his best friend was dead.
“He was shot sixteen years ago next week,” he added, his tone taking on a darker note. As if the thought of it still caused an ache. I knew it did. Although time had helped the pain of losing those I loved, it was never something that went away completely.
I slid my hand over and covered his. He tensed, and I almost drew my hand away, but he turned to look at me. It wasn’t sadness that I saw. I shivered slightly as his gaze dropped to my mouth, then my breasts.
“You walk around here in tops like that and no bra, Liberty, you’re gonna get fucked.” There was a warning in his voice.
“I think I mentioned that lately, I want, uh, it, all the time,” I replied, licking my lips.
He inhaled sharply through his nose, then turned his hand over, threading his fingers through mine before standing up and taking me with him. “Damn dog seems to be too interested in your scent. Gonna need to take this to the bedroom and shut him out,” he said, pulling me to his body.
He let go of my hand and ran both of his over my stomach. “Fuck, I like that,” he murmured. He gripped my waist and turned me around, facing away from him, then gently pushed me forward. “Right through there,” he said, leading me to the door on the wall opposite the television.
“Stay,” Liam told Ozzy firmly when he stood to walk beside me.