Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” she said. “Can we change the locks?”
Not easily…
“No,” I said. “I’ll wait for him to get here and have a word.”
“You will do no such thing,” Elizabeth’s annoying voice snarled.
SILVER
“Dad,” I said as I looked around the room. “I can’t come get you. I’m busy.”
Or I was, until the sexiest man on Earth had left in a hurry.
Now, I had no reason to linger.
Though, if I was an honest person, I would admit that I didn’t want to go pick my dad up.
I wanted to go home to my place and bask in the air conditioning while I replayed the afternoon in my mind.
I’d met the man I was going to marry…he just didn’t know it yet.
Piers “Webber” Webb.
He owned Webb’s Auto Repair and Restore, was forty-three years old, and the sexiest man I’d ever seen.
Tall, broad-shouldered, nice forearms, strong hands.
But the real thing that’d caught my attention and held it was his electric-blue eyes.
I’d thought that I had pretty blue eyes—one of my only features that I truly knew were beautiful—but then I’d met Webber and was mesmerized by his blue eyes.
And wow.
He’d caught my gaze and held it, and I’d been unable to look away.
Only after he greeted me and turned away did I finally get a look at the rest of him.
My second favorite feature was his mustache.
I’d never been a huge fan of mustaches. They’d always seemed kind of weird to me.
But on him…
It allowed his perfect lips to be on display, and his jaw…my god, his jaw. Square and strong.
Jesus Christ, I’d thought I would need to get a bib for all the drooling I’d done after meeting him.
“Are you even listening to me?” my father asked.
Barry Donahue was not a patient man.
Even worse, he hated being ignored.
I tried really hard not to do it because I knew what kind of an asshole my dad could be when he was ignored. Hence me answering the phone in the first place when I was clearly in the middle of something.
“I am,” I lied. “But I’m seriously busy.”
“I have sacrificed my whole life for you,” Barry started in on the guilt trip like he always did when I didn’t immediately bow down to his orders. “The least you can do is give me a ride home.”
I sighed. “How’d you get there, anyway?”
“Drove Eedie’s car,” Dad said, but something sounded off, like he was lying. “Broken down.”
“Eedie” was my dad’s new wife’s daughter—his stepdaughter.
I had yet to meet her, though I’d met his wife, Elizabeth, multiple times and had formed a very strong opinion of her—I hated her.
And since I couldn’t stand her, I made it a habit not to hang around at all if I could manage it.
When I did things with my dad, it was without Elizabeth around.
However, I’d noticed lately that he’d gotten worse. Elizabeth’s sparkling personality was rubbing off on my dad.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I sighed.
“Seriously?” he asked. “You’re five minutes away.”
“But I’m busy, and I have to say my goodbyes.” I ignored his attitude. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Aella gave me a look that clearly said “your dad’s a dick.”
Her man, Chevy, jerked his chin at me and said to be careful.
The rest of the bikers all did the same sexy nod thing, and I was sad when I left to head out to my car.
A shitty little rust bucket that was my pride and joy.
See, when I was younger, my mom was worse than my dad.
She was my least favorite person in the world, and if she’d rot in hell, that would be too good for her.
When I was nine, I specifically remember seeing a piece of mail come into the house that had my name on it. Curious, I’d opened it up to see that I owed seventeen dollars.
I’d been a very responsible kid then, and not knowing what I owed seventeen dollars for, I’d sent the money through the mail in cash with a postage stamp attached wrong to the envelope.
From then on, I’d started paying attention to the mail coming in, and by the time I was sixteen, I’d known that something was wrong.
I was getting bills in the mail for things that I didn’t buy.
By the time I tried to open my first bank account at eighteen, I’d realized that my mom had spent years ruining mine and Aella’s credit to the point where not only could we not get a bank account, but we couldn’t rent an apartment. We couldn’t buy a car. We couldn’t do much of anything.
Even angrier now, because thinking about my mom always made my blood boil, I headed to the store to pick up my dad.
He angrily slammed his bags onto my trunk, and I had to grit my teeth as I got out and opened the trunk for him—God forbid he actually put his bags down into the trunk himself.