Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“Now, do I get my cake woman?”
Dad sits down beside me, and I smirk at him. He gives me a wink and that tightness I’ve felt in my gut—for way too long—begins to loosen. Could it be possible that I’ve just imagined my father was disappointed in me all these years? He’s gruff and he doesn’t really talk about his feelings. Hell, all of us Monroe men are like that. The possibility is strong…
I push my thoughts away as I continue watching my parents. Their exchange makes me smile. For years, Mom would fight with my father on the fact that he would eat sweets instead of good food before going out to work all day. Over the years, they came to a compromise. Dad would eat Mom’s breakfast if Mom would make him something to go with his lunch and his sweet tooth. From the looks of things, lunch didn’t happen any longer and had morphed into coffee and dessert. It should also be said that although no kid wants to see it—especially when it comes to their parents—it’s also apparent that more than just lunch happened around this time.
Shit.
The slight touches, my mother’s blushing and the way my Dad’s eyes tracked her ass hit me all at once.
His eyes tracked her ass.
“Uh… I think I’m going to go upstairs to my room and call my coach. I was hoping to stay a few more days,” I mumble pushing what was left of my cake back and trying not to blush my own damn self.
Jesus.
“Are you enjoying your visit?” Dad asks, surprised.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I might be making a few more of them.”
“That’d be good son. It’s nice to have you around,” he says quietly. Mom comes over to stand beside him and I don’t miss the way his hand goes to hold my mother’s ass either.
My dad is an ass man. Christ.
“I’ll just go upstairs. I’ll probably be up there for a while.”
“Okay son,” Mom says.
“With my ear pods on so I can concentrate on what Green is saying,” I add standing up.
Mom’s face crinkles with confusion. “Okay,” she says again.
“I won’t be able to hear you if either of you call out,” I add, mumbling.
Dad lets out a strangled noise, his upper body shaking. He understands what I’m saying.
“Okay, Ryder,” Mom says, still pretty confused.
“I’ll probably be up there a good half hour.” Shit. It’s like I’m giving my parents permission to fuck.
I watch as my dad gets up and stands behind my mother. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her back into him. Fuck. He’s totally an ass man. I need to hurry and get back to Tillie and forget I saw this.
“Better make it an hour, son,” Dad laughs.
Mom gives out a strangled gasp and then turns to bury her face into Dad’s chest. “Oh, God,” she mutters, heat blossoming on her face, making me want to smile again.
“Will do,” I mutter under my breath, turning away from the lovebirds.
Until today I liked to imagine my parents as people who had no interest in sex. Now, I may need to step shit up with Tillie so she can put me in a sex coma and make me forget I know that my father is an ass man and gives it to my mother on the regular.
Damn it! I shake my head and close the door. I take my cell from my back pocket and flop down on the small twin bed in my childhood bedroom. This bed is a torture device on my big frame. I sure as fuck didn’t miss it last night in my girl’s bed.
My girl.
I like the sound of that. Tillie’s going to make me work for it, but I’ll put it in.
Especially if the reward is her.
I dial Green’s number by memory. If there’s one thing that I can say about being with this team, it’s that we’ve all become kind of a family. There’s not one man on the team that I don’t get along with, even after a loss when tempers are close to the surface for all of us. I know for a fact that’s not the case in most teams and I’m grateful every day that ours is different.
“Hey Ryder, make it back in town already?”
“Uh… not exactly,” I murmur, frowning because Green sounds like he’s at a party. “Did I call at a bad time, Coach?”
“Yes and no,” he mutters, sounding frustrated.
“I’m not exactly sure how to take that. Would it be better if I call back?”
“Doubtful, unless you know someone in the police department in Dallas.”
“Come again?”
“It seems my mother just got arrested.”
“Ida Sue?” I ask and shit, she’s not my mom and I’m panicking.
“Yeah,” Green sighs, sounding bone-deep tired.
“What on earth did they arrest her for?”
“She wasn’t wearing her seatbelt.”
“They arrest you for that?” I find myself asking. I don’t quite understand any of this.