Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I searched far and wide for Brawny. I was on every single social media available to me sharing his picture on every site that would accept the photos. One day, he’d come back to me. I just knew it.
And the worst of it all, I somehow knew that Morris and Birdee were involved.
The fucking disgusting excuse for human beings that they were.
“I’ll be seeing you, I guess,” I grumbled as I started to walk out.
As I turned, I face-planted into the hardest chest I’d ever felt before in my life.
“Ooof,” I coughed as hard, unforgiving arms circled my waist. “I’m so sorry.”
I looked up, and up, and up into the most beautiful face I’d ever seen in my life.
The man was tall, that was a given.
But his eyes were the color of butterscotch, and I felt like I was drowning the moment that he looked down into my own baby blues.
“S-sorry,” I stuttered. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
He grunted. “No problem.”
It was then I took in his attire.
Black shirt covered in sawdust. Red flannel shirt that looked like it was well loved. Jeans that were worn not because of style, but because of use. Brown boots that also sported quite a bit of sawdust.
He had thick thighs. Even thicker shoulders. Arms that looked like they could bench press a truck.
Long, flowing black hair that looked like an ad for Pantene.
A well-groomed black beard. Kissable lips. Working man hands.
God, this man was seriously the entire package.
He looked like he didn’t belong in this stupid country club right along with me and my spandex shorts that my mother hated. I had a huge, oversized t-shirt on over black biker shorts. Black New Balance shoes that had creases that drove my mother nuts.
Shoes shouldn’t have creases, Mable.
Truthfully, she wanted me to walk around all day every day in high heels and a modest skirt.
Ain’t nobody got time for that.
Especially not a woman that spent her life literally in the woods playing in the dirt.
Again, another thing that my mother fucking hated.
If she could erase that part of my life from existence, she would.
Women shouldn’t have dirty jobs, Mable.
Whatever.
The best part of my day was sitting in a backhoe digging in the dirt with headphones on playing my romance books.
I stepped back reluctantly from Mr. Literal Tall, Dark and Handsome.
His eyes took me in, starting at my shirt that was hanging off one shoulder, and ending at my slightly dirty shoes.
His lips tipped up, and he walked around me heading for the bar.
He took a seat and jerked his chin up at the bartender for a drink.
The bartender got it for him so fast that I couldn’t help but be surprised.
Plus, he acted like the man wasn’t severely underdressed.
If I’d gone up there I would’ve gotten a sneer and a revolted look.
Without a backward glance, I got the hell out of my least favorite place, and headed back to my lonely apartment.
The moment I got there, I sat down at my computer and started to scour the classifieds again.
“One day, Brawny, I’ll find you.”
Two
Crackheads never say “I can’t go today I’m broke.” They always find a way. Don’t let a crackhead out hustle you.
—Apollo to Romeo
Romeo
“How’s it going?” Apollo, my brother-in-law, asked.
“About as good as to be expected,” I grumbled. “Fuckin’ cold.”
Apollo laughed. “I hear it’s pretty mild there for this time of year.”
He was right. At least, from what I’d heard some of the guys on my crew tell me.
It was early February, and there wasn’t snow in the forecast for at least twelve more hours.
Tomorrow it was supposed to hammer us, though.
Before I went to prison, I spent my entire life outside.
I was a logger in North Texas and spent the majority of my time cutting down thousands and thousands of trees a year. I’d never in my life done it in the middle of a foot of snow, though.
Everything about living in Montana was different.
Like, for instance, using lakes to travel across because they were frozen fucking solid.
Never in my life had I seen an eighteen-wheeler loaded down with trees cross a frozen lake before, but I found that it was a common occurrence here.
“It is,” I grumbled. “Everyone keeps telling me we’re in for a Nor’easter soon, but I guess I’ll just be happy it hasn’t happened yet.”
Not that I knew what the fuck a Nor’easter was.
I was sure I’d find out, though.
I’d been living in Montana for six months now, free from the prison life for seven.
In the beginning, it was really fucking great.
Montana was breathtaking.
Who wouldn’t like looking at the Crazy Mountains for the rest of their life.
The only problem was that the mountains came with snow, and I was a Texas boy through and through.
Though, anything was better than being locked up…
Dog, the mountain of a dog that’d been dumped at the mouth of my property, nudged my leg.