Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
He’s probably thinking he dodged a bullet by shaking me loose now. I just wish he’d told me he didn’t want to see me anymore. Ended things cleanly. At least that would’ve made this situation a lot less awkward.
“What do you do for fun, Margot?” Jigsaw asks.
None of your business. I’m not his problem anymore. “Go to bars, pick up strange men, and bring them here for sex.” I wave my hand toward a white casket with pink lining. “The lucky ones get to go home when I’m done with them.”
Count your lucky stars, fucker.
I spin on my heel and walk out of the room. The guys follow me to the front of the house. I open the door wide, indicating I’m not in the mood for chitchat.
Manners. “Oh! I need to pay you something. I’m so sorry.” I should’ve stopped by my father’s office to grab some cash instead of letting Jigsaw’s presence work me into a snit.
“We’re not taking money from you.” Dex holds up his hands.
“But it was a long drive.”
“Ride,” Jigsaw corrects. “And we’re good. Thanks for the offer, though.”
I open my mouth to protest but they slip past me. Jigsaw slows his steps, his arm brushing against my side. He gives me a look that’s full of longing or sorrow, I can’t tell.
Or maybe it’s just my wishful thinking.
I quietly close the door. For reasons that have nothing to do with being professional, I can’t bring myself to slam it in his handsome face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jigsaw
My sassy little lady death with her oh-so-funny fuckboy jokes.
I can’t wait to get my hands on her again.
Fuckboy. I should’ve been insulted that she implied I’ve been out fucking everything in sight. But I like the way her husky voice tickles my ears too much. Even when she’s making fun of me and bestowing compliments on Dex. Fine bone structure my ass.
I definitely need to go back and see her. Try to make things right.
What’s the point?
The club’s riding to Deadbranch soon. I’ll be gone for at least a week. Why start something up and then leave her again?
The entire way back to the clubhouse I’m at war with myself. Dex and I take over the empty war room for a while to go over the route we’ll take to Deadbranch for Digger’s memorial service.
After we wrap that up, it’s still early. Dex heads back to Crystal Ball.
I consider working in the garage, like I’d originally planned to do this afternoon. But I can’t stop thinking about Margot. She needed us to move that big-ass casket upstairs. She must be busy with work.
I shouldn’t bother her. Not when she basically just accused me of being a fuckboy. And tried to make me jealous by implying she’s fucking randoms now. Which I know she absolutely isn’t doing. We only made it through half of lesson two.
Before I know it, I’m back on my bike headed to Pine Hollow for the second time today. At least all this extra riding will prepare me for the long ride to Deadbranch.
Shit, I need to warn Margot we’re all going to be away.
If that’s all I’m going to say to her, I can send it in a text. Or remind Teller to do it. Shit, I should’ve texted him to let him know everything was fine at Margot’s and ask how Charlotte’s doing.
The exit for Slater’s rapidly approaching.
Get off, or keep riding?
I veer onto the off-ramp. Christ, I hate it out here. So many twisty, narrow roads full of cars half-assedly parked at the curb before the wider rural roads leading out to Pine Hollow and Margot’s neighborhood.
Four cars I don’t recognize are in the parking lot when I arrive. I tuck my bike in a nook against the house and jog up the porch steps.
The screen door opens with a screech. I pause with my hand wrapped around the brass knob of the inner door. Loud argumentative voices seep outside.
I cock my head, trying to make out any words.
Shrill screams rise above the other noise.
“Fuck this.” I twist the knob and enter the house as silently as possible.
“Dad wanted to be cremated!” a woman screams. “He would not stand for this! He would hate this!”
“He’s not here!” a man roars. “We need to honor him.”
Two more people add their grievances.
Holy shit, is this the kind of fuckery Margot deals with on the regular?
Her soft voice murmurs soothing words I can’t make out from here. Is she alone with these crazy people? I creep along the hallway toward her father’s office where the voices are coming from.
Mr. Cedarwood’s calm, authoritative tone rises above the rest of the chatter. I slow my steps. Thank fuck Margot’s not dealing with that by herself.
Still, I continue until I’m right outside Cedarwood’s office. The door’s open and I quickly walk past, sneaking a look inside. Margot’s on the small couch holding the hand of a sobbing woman. She looks up and our eyes meet. Her jaw drops, then she quickly composes herself and returns her attention to the woman. Three other people are either sitting on chairs or standing.