I'm Only Here for the Beard (The Dixie Wardens Rejects MC #4)(60)

They fit her loosely, going all the way up to just below her knee.

"Don't ask me why," I said. "Get up. Go pee. Get your shoes on. In that order."

She shot me a glare.

"There's nothing you can do at this point to make the hurt go away," she informed me as she rose. "I'll be better if you just leave me be." 

I grabbed her shoes and held them up for her.

She still didn't move.

"If you make me start counting like I do with kids, you're not going to like what I do to you."

She snorted as she reached for her shoes, surprising me when she actually put them on and stood up with expectation lighting her eyes.

"Where to, Seanshine?"

I frowned at her. Hard.

"Why do you insist on calling me that?" I asked casually, not letting on that I absolutely hated that name.

Why my father, friends, and colleagues insisted on calling me that, was beyond me. Even when they knew how much I hated it.

"Your friend, Memphis, calls you that."

My brows rose.

"When did you have a chance to talk to Memphis?" I asked in surprise.

Her lips tipped up at the corners. "When she called and I answered your phone while you were in the shower earlier. I now have lots and lots of ammo to use against you the next time we fight."

My frown was likely ferocious.

"Whatever she told you, you can't believe," I informed her. "Trust me. She's the devil."

I picked up the two gloves in the corner and turned to her, holding them up in my hands.

"That'll never fit me," she informed me.

I shrugged.

"It'll be all right," I promised. "I'll even let you use mine, which is smaller."

And that's how I hit my girlfriend with a baseball, giving her a black eye. Luckily, I wasn't throwing the ball like I would have in a real game or it could have been a lot worse.

The smile she gave me, though … that was worth every second of guilt that the bruise on that beautiful face gave me.





Chapter 19


You look like the type of woman who has to buy her own Klondike bars.

-E-card

Sean

"The fucking dog hates me, too," I grumbled. "I walk into my own goddamned trailer, and she growls at me."

My dad had the fucking nerve to laugh.

"That's sad," he lied. "I think she's kind of cute."

In an ugly kind of way, I suppose you could say that.

"Did you at least get the beer?"

I glared at my father and tossed him the thirty-six pack.

He grunted as he caught it, and I tried really hard not to laugh.

"Where's Naomi?"

"Inside talking to the ladies," I answered.

Ghost came up behind me, and I froze at the look on his face.

"You okay?"

A few weeks ago, when he'd asked me to go with him to do something, never in a thousand years would I have thought that I'd see what I saw. I had no earthly idea that he would ask me to do what he did. To make me witness something so fucking heartbreaking that I couldn't stop thinking about it, even now.

Right that second, seeing that look on his face, the raw, naked fear, I straightened, remembering that night like it was as clear as day.

"Ghost."

"I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to promise me that it'll never, ever get out. If you tell anyone, even that woman of yours, it could be the death of them."

***

Four weeks ago

"I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to promise me that it'll never, ever get out. If you tell, even that woman of yours, it could be the death of them."

"Are you sure you want to go?" I asked raggedly.



       
         
       
        

Ghost stared at the crying little girl, the one with tears pouring down her cheeks as she stared at her mother like she'd just betrayed her. The one with the two French braids that started at the top of her head and fell to almost mid-back … hair the same color as the man who was standing next to me. Her eyes were the same color, too. Deep green, almost the color of an olive, with whiskey colored striations that broke that green up beautifully.

"I hate you!" the little girl screamed.

The woman, she was beautiful. She had long brown hair that fell in waves to nearly her waist, and the most soulful brown eyes that looked like they'd literally been poured from melted chocolate.

"Sweetheart," the woman whispered. "Please."

"It's not okay. It'll never be okay. He's not my father. I'm not ever going to call him daddy. I only ever had one, and he's gone. You don't get to decide that for me!"

My heart shattered into a million pieces, especially when I saw the murderous rage that was filling Ghost's frame.