Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“You’re supposed to stay in bed,” he reminded her.
“You were taking too long.”
“Babe, I’m about to fill the cups. You had to wait two more minutes.”
“Okay then, you don’t want to know why I came out.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Georgie.”
“Dutch.”
They went into staredown.
His woman talked so he knew he’d win.
And he did.
“It’s gushy, but,” she pushed closer, “you were too far away.”
He buried his hand in the back of her hair, the curls wrapping around his fingers like they were holding him there, and he dropped his face close to hers.
And then he said, “You are so fuckin’ into me.”
She rolled her eyes and replied, “Duh.”
He bent further and kissed her.
When he broke it, he said, “You look cute in glasses.”
“I have it on good authority I’m cute a lot of the time.”
“Yeah? Whose authority is that?”
“He’s a badass biker. You don’t want to cross him.”
Dutch was chuckling at the same time totally not caring if his caffeine fix came ten days from then, he liked Georgie in his kitchen, being cute, almost more than he liked her fifteen minutes ago, on her back, letting him eat her out.
Regrettably, on this thought, there was a knock on the door.
Georgie grabbed onto his biceps, crying, “Quick! Hide!”
“Babe,” he replied, that word shaking because he was laughing.
He let her go.
She sighed.
He headed to the door.
Murtagh followed him.
He opened it to Carolyn.
He immediately started to close it making a mental note to get a goddamned peephole, even if he hadn’t gotten one up until then because he didn’t want it fucking with the look of his door.
She threw out a hand to catch it and begged, “Please, Dutch. I’m not here to cause problems. I’m here to talk to Georgie.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” he informed her.
“Serious. I’m not gonna be a bitch. I promise.”
She said this putting her other hand on the door, and all her weight into both.
“Stop pushing on the door, Carolyn.”
Her gaze went beyond him, and she exclaimed, “Georgie! Please. I was out of line and I’m sorry. Totally. But I need to talk to you.”
He felt Georgie’s hand on the skin at the small of his back because he was again only in his sleep shorts before Georgiana said softly, “Dutch.”
Fuck.
He opened the door.
Carolyn came in.
He shut the door, then moved to stand in front of Georgie so he was to the side, in order she could see her sister, but he was still out front.
And he started it by laying his one ground rule.
“Any shit comes outta your mouth to your sister that I do not like, I swear to fuck, Carolyn, I’ll put you out.”
She stared at him, a weird longing on her face that started to make him feel nauseous, until he got it.
It wasn’t about him.
It was about what she lost in Jagger.
“Carolyn,” Georgie called her attention.
Carolyn looked beyond him to her sister.
“I’m in a bind,” she said.
Dutch crossed his arms on his chest.
“I get it,” she continued. “It’s not your problem. It’s not anyone’s problem. But mine. But I’m going to be evicted, like, tomorrow if I don’t give them at least three months’ rent.”
She stopped talking and Georgie didn’t start.
“Georgie,” she pleaded.
“I want to help you,” Georgie said in a quiet voice.
Shit.
She said she’d back down on her declaration and there it was.
“But I can’t help you,” Georgie went on.
Thank fuck.
She was standing strong.
Georgie kept going.
“Because if I give you money…and three months’ rent, Carolyn, just saying, that will put me in a bind…still, I can’t know you won’t buy drugs with it.”
“I need a roof over my head more than cocaine.”
“You say that now—”
“It’s not the problem you think it is.”
“How am I supposed to trust that?”
“Because I’m telling you.”
“Can you put yourself in my shoes with me having your history, and I was saying these things to you, would you risk your nest egg that isn’t much, but it’s at least a little peace of mind, on me?”
“What am I supposed to do?” Carolyn asked. “I can’t live on the streets.”
“Move in with Mother.”
“She said no go.”
“Move in with Dad.”
“No way,” Carolyn spat.
Since he knew where this was heading, Dutch had to intervene.
And he did it to say a warning, “Georgie.”
Georgie was silent.
Carolyn looked between them, back and forth and again and again, fast.
Then her hands flew out and she cried, “You’ve known each other…what? Days? And you’re picking him over me?”
“You can’t live with me. I have a roommate,” Georgie pointed out.
“She’s not there. She’s in Somalia or whatever.”
“She’s paying for that space and not for you to stay there.”
“I cannot believe my ears,” Carolyn spat, her tone and the twist in her face saying she was losing it.
And that shit was not happening again.
“Chill the fuck out,” Dutch bit.
Carolyn glared at him then sucked in a breath.
When she got a lock on it, she said, “I’ll sell some stuff. I have good stuff. Consignment won’t take long. I’ll take extra shifts. They’re always asking for extra shifts and I get time and a half. It’ll be a month. Most, two.”