Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“The kids here are all ten or older. Pretty sure they’ve heard the word fuck, darlin’.”
I roll my eyes. “Not the point. Are you and Callum going to help me unload the food I have in Amie or you going to stand over there and stare at me?” I huff.
“Your legs look good in those cutoffs, babe. Thinking I might go for door number two.” This time I flip him off, making him and Callum both laugh. Thankfully, they do it while walking over to me. “How is you flipping me the bird different from me saying fuck?” Apex inquires.
“Mine is a hand gesture. Yours was the actual spoken word,” I grumble, turning back to my car, bending down to pick up the box that has a disposable aluminum pan that is packed full of my meatballs. “You take these, ‘cause you’re being weird,” I tell him.
“Not being weird, Beau. You’re all that’s you, so you look good all the time. In your truck, in this car, but in those shorts and that sweet Harley tank, you’re even better.”
My eyes go round. Apex has never truly flirted with me before. In fact, until today he’s mostly called me Harper. He’s clearly flirting now and the way he uses my name has warning bells going off in my head. Yikes. I don’t know what to do with that.
“Um …”
For some reason my inane muttered sound is funny to him. I can tell by the way his lips twitch before stretching into a very sexy grin. That grin is panty-melting and because of that I can feel heat hit my cheeks. What is wrong with me? I’ve known Apex for a while. He is part of the Devil’s Blaze MC now, but he and Callum have been buddies for a long time, so when I say a while, I mean a long while. He’s not flirted with me before. Not even in just a passing manner. I don’t know what to do with it now. I think ignoring him might be the best option.
“Aunt Beau!” I look up, a smile taking over my face as I hear Slider call out.
“There’s the birthday boy,” I respond with a grin. Slider is a great looking kid with soft brown hair and green sparkling eyes. He’s tall for his age. I’m 5’7 and if I had to guess, I’d say he’s five feet already. If not, he’s not far from it. The kid is already a heartbreaker. When he gets to be a teen, Gordo may need to lock him up to protect the girls his age from the pain his smile can deliver. Slider stops in front of me. I miss his hugs. He’s getting too damn old to do that now. Which sucks for me because I miss them. “You want to help take some food to the table for me?”
“Sure,” he says. “Hey Ty!” he calls out. “Come help my aunt.”
“Okay,” another kid yells back. I watch as a boy almost as tall as Slider comes jogging over. He’s got red hair and a smattering of freckles on his face. It’s his blue eyes that capture my attention. They’re so beautiful they almost take my breath away. Those eyes remind me of a man that I really fucking need to forget …
I shake my head. Sure, Torch said Hunter had a kid named Ty. Still, the chance of Slider’s best friend from the baseball team being Hunter’s kid has to be minimal. Right? I’m just being silly.
“Aunt Beau, this is my friend Ty. He’s on the baseball team with me.”
“Hey, Ty.”
“Hey,” he responds. “Is this your car?” he says, his gaze roving over Amie.
“Yep, this is Amie. She’s my baby.”
“Aunt Beau painted her,” Slider proclaims with pride, making me have to smother out my chuckle.
“No shit?” Ty says with a whistle.
“Told you,” Apex mutters as if shit and fuck are curse words in the same scale of bad. I mean, to me they are, but if I had a kid, they wouldn’t be for him or her.
“Whatever,” I mutter, not going to argue about it. There’s too much testosterone around me.
“Is this your meatballs, Beau?” Apex asks.
“Yeah,” I confirm with a laugh because he’s lifting the aluminum covering off the top to inhale.
“Beau Harper, will you marry me?”
“Apex, stop with the joking,” I chastise, reaching back into Amie to get a huge bowl of my potato salad, giving that to Ty. I get another huge pan out and hand this one to Slider.
“Please tell me this is all mine,” Slider begs, making me laugh. This pan has a plastic lid on it that he can see through. I hadn’t planned on making chocolate lasagna. There’s already birthday cake, but I know Slider loves this stuff, so on a whim I made it. Now, I’m glad. Besides, I don’t cook often—even if I do enjoy it. There’s just no point because it’s usually just me.