Page 32 of Bound by Family
Me:Call me.
This text was sent to her about ten minutes ago, and not a word. It’s only eight, so I don’t think she’s sleeping. We did the text thing off and on throughout the day, but I’m over it. I want to talk to her and have a real conversation. One where her purring voice comes through the line, and I can distinguish her jokes, sarcasm, and seriousness without having to guess all the damn time.
The house we live in is your typical bachelor pad. Everything is industrial because shit gets broken more times than not. Hell, our coffee table, Green and I made it out of two-by-fours and sheets of plywood to make sure it was strong. I can’t tell you how many times Ryker has jumped on top of it when the Bulldogs scored a touchdown or won a game. It holds sound every damn time.
The couches are used and abused. We got them from Green’s parents, who were getting new ones. They’re comfortable, and that’s all that really matters. The best thing in the space is our eighty-inch television, which is in the center of the wall with all the couches facing it.
We have a couple of beer posters up on the wall, but not much else. The white is a bit dirty now that I look at it. We may need to repaint it at some point.
It’s not home. It’s more of a place to crash when we aren’t at the club. A home is like the place my mom and dad have, where I grew up.
Listen to me. I should smack myself in the head. Why my thoughts are going this way is up for debate.
“Bro! Heads-up!” Ryker calls out as he tosses a bag of chips my way.
I catch them with ease. Opening them up, I pop a barbecue flavored chip in my mouth.
“Wanna head out tonight?” he asks, plopping down on the couch next to me, grabbing the bag and taking some chips.
I think about Bristyl and wonder if she’s going to call. Maybe I should give her just a little more time before making any plans.
“Maybe later. I just need to chill.”
“Cool.” He shoves more chips into his mouth. “You think any more about the different businesses to approach the club with?”
Hell yes. The car wash was a good idea, but the moving parts are my hang up.
Bristyl. That’s my new idea. I’m actually stealing it from her. I began my search for information on it. It’s damn near perfect, and it will work all the way around. Storage units. It can be all cash for the most part, and we could put fencing around the place so the renters would need a security code to get onto the property. This way, it won’t have to be manned twenty-four seven, and Buzz can hook it up with security. I haven’t worked out all the details yet, but it’s definitely workable. My goal for the club is to work smarter, not harder.
“Yeah, I think I’m going to bring it up to my dad first and see what he thinks. Then go from there.” I gave Ryker, Green, and Jacks a bit of a heads-up on my thoughts, but I haven’t told them any of my plans yet. Making sure it’s feasible before giving it to the club is important to me.
“Good idea,” he mumbles around a mouthful of chips. “He’ll give it to ya straight.”
Damn right he will.
My phone begins to ring. Bristyl.She fucking called back, and the stupid-ass grin on my face cannot be stopped.
“Be back in a few.” I charge into my room and lock the door, knowing Ryker’s nosy-ass will be in here if I don’t.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BRISTYL
Nerves hit me like a lead weight. I’m actually calling him. It seems weird that my anxiety is so high, considering we have been texting for a few days now. But with texting, I can think about what I’m saying and erase it quickly if it’s stupid. Which I took advantage of a lot in our chats.
Talking directly is a bit intimidating, knowing I’ll fuck up. That’s just me. I guess he better learn sooner rather than later that stupid shit flies out of my mouth before I can catch it pretty much eighty percent of the time.
The phone rings … and rings … and rings, and right when I think it’s going to voicemail, I hear, “Hello?” in the sexiest deep voice. It’s like velvet, soft yet, if you rub it the other way, a bit rough. The sound causes my skin to prickle in a delectable way.
“Hey,” comes out breathy, and I immediately want to smack myself.
Good job, Bristyl, going for the sexy voice. Perfect.Even clearing my throat doesn’t get rid of it.
“You wanted me to call?” See, right there, stupid.Duh, you’re talking to him on the phone, you dork!
I need my brain checked or transplanted. Probably both at this point.
He chuckles, and it warms me inside. “Yeah, texts are gettin’ a bit much. Not that I don’t like hearin’ from ya, but I’m more of a talk guy.”
