Page 15 of Three Little Words

I watched as she sucked the liquor from her finger. She let out a soft moan as her finger popped free from her red lips.

My cock twitched.

She turned and walked away, throwing me a look over her shoulder.

Dak laughed and slapped me on the back once more. “That one’ll suck you dry if you let her. She’s fun, though.”

“I, uh. I’ll remember that.”

* * * * *

My alarm was going off, and it was too bright in my bedroom, even with the blackout curtains drawn.

Every beep coming from my phone made my head throb.

Too much whiskey last night, I decided, before pushing myself up.

This always happened when I went to The Depot. At The Republic, our regular drinking spot, I could pace myself. The guys would tease me about it, but I never got wasted. Just a healthy buzz.

But it was hard to say no to Dak.

Especially when the drinks were on his tab—his way of tipping after I did work from him.

Which got me here. Tired, hung-over, and awake at the asscrack of dawn to go open the shop.

I got in the shower, head still pounding, and leaned against the wall, letting hot water run over me.

Even if I had some regrets this morning, it had been a hell of a party. Loud music, a few good fights.

A lot of beautiful women.

I sighed at the thought. I could have taken some of them home. I hung around the King’s Devils enough to know who was fair game and who could get me in a world of trouble, and some of the girls had been flirting pretty hard.

I thought about Jazz.

I could’ve gotten her home easy.

But I wasn’t ready yet. It wasn’t the right time to let a girl get into my head.

I had to focus on other things, like the new shop opening.

I’d sworn off girls for now, but maybe what I should’ve sworn off was drinking.

* * * * *

Ryker’s car was in the parking lot when I pulled into the shop. The front door was already unlocked, lights on, and he was sitting on one of the couches, drinking a coffee from Bakeology.

“Kenzie give you a freebie?” I asked. My cousin, Bradley’s kid sister, worked at the shop—practically ran it, really. She’d give us free drinks from time to time, and sometimes bring down muffins if she knew somebody was having a bad day.

Or if she was trying to flirt on the sly.

A problem on its own, but nothing Bradley and I couldn’t handle.

Ryker looked up, nodding. “Yeah. She said I looked like shit.”

He did—exhausted, at least, and with a streak of red paint still on one cheek.

“How late were you there?”

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