Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
I chuckled. “Cheesy. But cute. Though I think I’d need to see some ID to buy you any alcohol. Are you even old enough to be in here?”
The kid shrugged. “Nah. But the owner doesn’t care.” He extended a hand. “I’m Axe.”
“Is that your real name?”
His lip quirked. “No, but it’ll sound a heck of a lot better than Arthur when you’re moaning it.”
This kid was really adorable. Ridiculously over the top, yet somehow it worked for him. Charisma, shaggy hair, and a dimpled smile were a dangerous combination. I bet he was popular with girls his own age. There was also something familiar about him. “How old are you, Axe?”
“Eighteen. Well, close enough. I’ll be eighteen next year.”
The bartender returned with my drink. He wagged his finger at the kid next to me. “Leave the ladies alone, Arthur.”
He pointed. “She hit on me.”
“Yeah, right.” The bartender moved two fingers back and forth, simulating walking. “Go back to the booth and finish your homework, or I’m kicking your ass out.”
Axe, or Arthur, groaned. “You suck.” But he also slinked off to a booth.
I drank my drink quietly after that, debating whether I should leave Brock’s phone with the bartender or come back another night so I could give it to him myself, along with some choice words. As I finished off the last of my cocktail, Axe returned. He’d just started to say something when a booming voice interrupted.
“What did I tell you about sitting at the bar?” Brock’s face was stern.
“I was just getting the nice lady’s phone number,” Axe said.
Brock looked to me. “You giving this kid your number?”
His tone pissed me off. He pissed me off. So I folded my arms across my chest. “What business is it of yours if I am?”
Brock scowled and pointed at the kid next to me. “I’ve told you ten times, you don’t sit at this bar for four more years. Now you’ve lost the right to even come in here. From now on, you go somewhere else to do your homework.”
“How can I go somewhere else when you took my car keys?”
“You have two damn legs. Walk.”
“Can I at least have my phone back?”
“Will you leave if I give you your phone?”
“Absolutely.”
Brock took a deep breath and blew it out. The kid was trying his patience. He turned to me. “Any chance you found a phone? I took this little shit’s cell because he got suspended again. But I can’t find it anywhere. I think I might’ve left it in the flannel I gave you last night.”
I felt all the color from my face drain. “It…it wasn’t your phone?”
“No. It’s my dipshit little brother’s.”
I swallowed. “Your brother?”
He nodded.
“I, uh…” I took the phone from my back pocket and held it out hesitantly. “Is this it?”
The kid swiped it from my hand. “Thanks! Gotta go.”
My head was still reeling as I watched him jog from the bar. I hadn’t been looking at pictures of Brock’s dick? I’d been looking at his seventeen-year-old brother? His little brother used the BuzzBuddy app?
Oh God.
“You okay, Red?”
I covered my face with my hands. “Not really.”
“What’s going on?”
I shook my head. “I’m mortified to even tell you.”
“Shit.” He chuckled. “This sounds good.”
I still had my face covered, so I spread two of my fingers and peeked out. “If I tell you, you have to promise you will not torture me about it.”
“Not sure I can do that until I hear what it is.”
I sighed. “I peeked in your phone—at least I thought it was your phone until two minutes ago.”
“Okay…”
“I hate to tell you this, but your little brother has some interesting apps on there.”
“Oh, I know.” He shook his head. “Freaking BuzzBuddy. The little peckerhead got suspended because of the damn thing. He was using it on some girl while they were in school, and one of the teachers heard the humming. That’s why I took his phone and his car away. Our mother, God rest her soul, would’ve chopped off his balls for having shit like that.”
My heart squeezed. I hadn’t known he’d lost his mother. “I’m sorry. Your brother is so young to not have a mom.”
Brock nodded. “Art is the youngest. My mom had six boys.”
“Who does he live with?”
“My aunt. That’s what my mom wanted. But my brothers and I all keep an eye on him and help out.” Brock gestured to the booths on the other side of the bar. “You up for another drink? Maybe we can go sit over there for a while?”
I smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” He winked. “Because you owe me one after I didn’t bust your balls about going through the phone when you thought it was mine.”
Brock and I spent the next two hours talking. He told me more about growing up with five brothers, and I finally came clean about the real reason my board had sent me for a mental-health break.