Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
"Bitch, you would lose a single minute of being close to that fine ass naked man?" Thad asked an hour later as I sat on the kitchen counter in my panties and Ty's shirt, cradling a cup of tea in my hands. "Is that peppermint?" he asked, sniffing my cup. "Your stomach bothering you?"
"I have feelings for him," I admitted.
"And that is making you sick to your stomach?" he asked, brow raising.
"It's too soon to have feelings."
"It's maybe too soon to want to marry him and give him a litter of babies. But it's never too soon for feelings, boo. I got feelings for that fine ass man at the post office. He could handle my package any-fucking-time."
I snorted at that, taking a sip of peppermint that I hated, but drank whenever my belly felt wobbly. And wobbly was what it felt right about then.
"I meant real feelings, Thad. Like heart fluttery feelings."
"Fred, if your heart ain't fluttering, he wouldn't be worth spending time with at all, right? The heart flutter is what you want at this stage. Down the road is when you can admire his ability to piss in the bowl or scrape your windshield in the winter. Right now, it's about the flutter. Down the road is when you start to see a note about being out of TP as a sign of love since he doesn't want you wiping your ass with a coffee filter. That is down-the-road love. Flutters, flutters is fine right now."
"I've known him less than two weeks."
"Did you declare your undying love to him when he rang the bell?"
"What? No."
"Then cut the shit, boo. This is not a big deal. Feel what you feel. No one can tell you it is too soon to feel how you feel if it is how you feel. But don't be talking about how you feel for a bit. That's my advice to you. And, honey child, I have a lot more experience with the menfolk than you. So you can trust me. Pour that shit down the drain. You need a glass of wine to make you sleepy," he decided, reaching for the glasses.
So I had wine, got sleepy, and went back to bed only to be woken up two hours later.
But I sure wasn't complaining.
Nor was I complaining when he woke me up early with a cup of coffee made the right way and yet another orgasm.
"You can't still be come-drunk, baby girl. Get up. You got nothing in the house."
"There is plenty in the house," I objected. "The veggie drawers are full. There's fruit on the counter."
"Babe, you're making my point. There's nothing in the house. Let's get lunch. Then head over to the clubhouse. You want me to pack some shit for you?"
"If I let you pack for me, there would be no bra or panties," I objected, begrudgingly sliding my legs off the side of the bed.
"Yeah, well, it's stupid to pack shit you won't need," he agreed, eyes dancing.
"You want me walking around the clubhouse around your buddies without a bra on?" I shot back, watching as the dancing stopped.
"Alright. Bra. But there is no need for panties," he insisted. "Just more layers to peel off."
"I don't mind the peeling," I told him, getting to my feet, grabbing the oversized hobo bag Thad had picked up for me, tossing some clothes inside of it, then going into the bathroom to shower, throw necessary toiletries in it as well, then coming back out to find Ty dressed and ready to go.
We went to lunch, talking about the new menu items Abby was considering. About the changes in the town in general. He gave me a rundown on the organizations and how they interconnected. He told me about the women in the girls club. Which, admittedly, filled me with a feeling of inadequacy. They all sounded like certified badasses who had all sorts of skills or training. And here I was. A short order cook. Ex-con. And... that was about it.
"Got nothing to worry about," he told me, seeming to read my thoughts. "They didn't all start off as what they are now. And there are some who don't really have any skills or shit. Rey and Penny and Kennedy come to mind. Bethany. I mean, they all train now. But it's more of a bonding thing with them now. They don't go out and get their hair and nails done, sip mimosas at brunch. They head up to Hailstorm and try to beat the shit out of each other. Figure it might be why there is almost no in-fighting with them. Any hard feelings get worked out in a physical way. Keeps 'em all happy."
"I wouldn't hate learning some self-defense," I admitted.
It seemed smart, now that I really knew what kind of town I was living in. What threats were around every corner. It would be nice to know I had more than a puny pocketknife to protect myself with.