Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I zip up my zipper and button my pants before turning and walking out of the bathroom. I make my way back to the garage, and I don’t know why I’m expecting to still see her there. There is no way I would stick around; I don’t know why I was hoping she would. I walk over to the workstation and see her handprint there. The scent of her perfume still lingers, making my cock hard. I close my eyes, tucking my stool under the bench I fucked her on without a care in the world. The front fucking door wasn’t even locked. Ryan had just left, and he could have returned and seen me plowing into her. I let that thought burn in my stomach for a bit before I remind myself it’s not my job to take care of her.
I lock up and head to the bar before going home. Something I don’t do often, but occasionally. Walking in, I see it’s almost packed, so I make my way over to the bar. Usually, it’s Brady, but ever since he’s hooked up with Harmony and her son, he’s off on the weekends. He’s a family man, and I’m happy for him. I slip out a stool and sit down as the new bartender approaches. “Can I have the house blend, one shot?” I tell him, and he nods at me as he moves to prepare my order. I tap the bar, looking around, spotting a couple of people I know. But usually Sundays are spent with families. He places the drink in front of me, and I take the shot before getting up and leaving a twenty on the bar.
I walk back to my truck and head home. The black clouds look like they are rolling in fast, and it feels like a downpour is about to come. My mind wanders to Everleigh, even if I know it shouldn’t. This whole fucking week I’ve thought about her every fucking night. Waking up thinking about her, going to bed after having to jerk off because I couldn’t get her image out of my head. Today, she walked into the garage, looking for a fight, and it felt like we were right back where we were all those years ago. The fight would always be intense, but then the make-up sex would be even more intense. I swear, we fought just to fuck some days.
Pulling up to my house, I get out, and a gust of wind makes the leaves in the trees rustle along with the wind chimes I put up for Saige a couple of years ago. She loves the sound of them, always has. At first, I didn’t want to put them up because they would make me think of Everleigh. She hung one right outside our window in the apartment we shared. Growing up, she had one outside of her bedroom and said it made her feel at home listening to the sound.
I’m about to go over to the tree and rip them down and see if Saige will notice when a car pulls up on the street. I look over and see a Mercedes stop right in front of my house. The car door opens and I turn around to see my old boss get out of the car. He looks around, taking off his sunglasses before he turns and faces me. I take a moment to look around also, to see if anyone is outside to watch this if anything happens. Like I throat punch him for fucking me over.
He smiles when he sees me here on the steps. “Brock,” he says, walking up the path to the front door, “I was hoping you would be home.”
“You got car trouble?” I ask, and he looks at me confused.
His eyebrows pinch together. “No.”
“Then why the fuck are you here?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I would stop by and see an old friend,” he says, and I take a step down to make sure he can see my eyes.
“A friend, is that what you call yourself?” I ask. “You stole my fucking designs and called them your own. The only problem with that was you didn’t copy them right and now the whole fucking place looks like it’s sinking.” I shake my head. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
“I’m sorry about that,” he says and runs his hand through his thinning black hair. “I didn’t want to do it. They made me do it.” I nod.
“Yeah, they made you steal my designs?” I ask, not surprised in the least, but I was hoping he would have stolen them to get ahead. You see, he was my boss when I was working for the Cartwrights, and when they handed him the development to create, they also put me on there. I spent hours upon hours drawing and recreating the perfect housing plans. The perfect development would make the Cartwrights a lot more money than they had.