Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
He’d made himself scarce after that. Because damn, the woman was gorgeous and exactly his type. Short, cute, sweet, and sexy as hell. The sass she’d come by honestly sealed the deal.
God, he loved a woman with reddish blonde hair. His dick liked it, too, which was why he’d stayed away rather than pop a boner in her father’s presence. Copper would have sniffed out his lust, ripped off his dick, and fed it to Screw’s new pittie puppy. Better to avoid the temptation and potential trauma altogether.
Copper didn’t respond right away. He stroked his ginger-colored beard with one hand while toying with the ends of Shell’s blonde hair with the other. When thinking, he often fell silent, a trait Saint had learned Copper hadn’t always possessed. Rumor had it, once upon a time, Copper’s temper had rivaled the most volatile of bikers, but he’d gotten smarter and more controlled as the years passed. Plus, the ladies in his life had mellowed him, or so the stories went.
“Maybe her boyfriend is causing shit,” Gator said before tipping his beer back for a chain of swallows.
Copper stiffened as rigid as a statue. A very angry, very large, very deadly biker statue carved from marble and icy to the touch. “The fuck did you just say?”
Holy shit. That tone alone could freeze a man to death.
Gator’s eyes widened. “Um…” He lowered the bottle, then swallowed once more as his gaze darted between the rest of them.
“Sorry, brother, you stepped on a landmine.” Thunder raised his hands in surrender. “Nothing I can do for you.”
“That dude. The fucking poser guy. I don’t remember his name,” Gator muttered.
“Speak fucking English, Gator,” Copper said in a low rumble that made the hair on Saint’s neck rise to attention.
Gator scoffed. “Come on, you guys know who I’m talking about. We met the fucker on that trip to Arizona last year when we stayed the night near Beth on the way. Back me up, Saint. You remember him, right?”
Saint shrugged. “Sorry, brother. I wasn’t on that trip.” Now he wished he had been, but Zach had needed his help back home with some businessman who owed the club a large chunk of money. Gambling debts came calling every time.
“Douchebag, wannabe biker guy? Rode something that looked like a goddamn kiddie bike.” Gator rolled his eyes. “Come on, you two ain’t old enough to have memory loss.”
“Him?” Copper’s eyes bugged as he turned to Shell. “She’s still seeing that shit stain?”
“I…” Shell shook her head, frowning. “She hasn’t mentioned him in ages. I thought they broke up. He was… a bit of a jackass.”
Saint chuckled under his breath. Shell was the best, always ready to call a man a jackass and then make him dinner if he looked hungry. Though from the sound of it, this guy wouldn’t be invited to sit at their table any time soon.
“Nah, pretty sure they’re still a thing,” Gator said.
“Wait…” Copper’s gaze swung back to him. “How the fuck do you know?”
Gator paused with his beer halfway to his mouth. His face lost all its color, and his mouth opened and closed without a sound, like one of the fish he spent much of his free time catching.
Saint couldn’t hold back his laugh. It came out strangled as he failed to hide it behind a cough. Thankfully, Thunder laughed out loud, covering his blunder. Poor Gator would be lucky to come out of this alive and with all his organs intact.
“We’re, uh, friends,” Gator said. “Me and Beth.”
“Friends?”
Oh shit. Gator was seconds from losing another chunk of his body, and Copper’s bite would be a hundred times worse than an alligator’s. Saint bit his lip to hold back another laugh as he imagined Copper chasing Gator around the clubhouse while snapping at the idiot’s heels.
Once again, Thunder didn’t bother to hold back his laughter.
“Uh…” Gator squirmed beneath Copper’s glare.
“Copper, leave the poor guy alone. You put the fear of God into your men. No one will ever look at Beth as more than a friend.” Shell narrowed her eyes at her ol’ man, but the smile gave her away. “Poor girl,” she muttered.
“Excuse me?”
Saint swore Copper’s jaw hit the table as he stared down at Shell.
“You want your daughter with one of these fuckups?”
She shrugged without shame. “What? There are some very nice perks to being with one of you guys.”
“Michelle Gallagher, I am going to pretend you didn’t say that. We’re talking about our innocent child here.”
Shell snorted. “Of course, dear.” She patted Copper’s arm in the most patronizing way possible. “I’ll be sure to send her some Barbie dolls for her next birthday.”
Saint was pretty sure Copper growled as he turned his attention back to Gator. “Not necessary, as long as this one remembers to keep his eyes, hands, and any other body part to himself.”