Page 49 of Cherry Beats

“Bourbon’s daughter?” Presley quirked a brow, looking up at me as he buttered toast at the kitchen island. I was sitting on one of the stools, finally back in my trusty trousers, but with one of Presley’s T-shirts in place of my top from the previous night. This T-shirt smelt like him, and I was pretty certain I wasn’t ever going to wash it or give it back.

“Yeah. Felicity. She’s adorable. He brings her up by himself.”

“Why?”

“His wife... she wasn’t very nice.”

“Did she cheat on him?”

I nodded as I took a sip of my fresh orange juice. “With his brother.”

Presley’s eyes popped, and he slid the plate of toast my way, just as I placed my orange juice back down. I grabbed a slice and sank my teeth into it, not realising how starving I was until I began to chew.

“His brother? That’s low.”

“Even lower is that she then left Bourbon with Felicity while she moved to Chicago with his brother. She basically told him to keep the kid and have a nice life.”

“Shit. That’s cold.”

“And you think you’re selfish.” I huffed. “That bitch belongs on Jerry Springer. It’s little Fliss I feel sorry for, but I spoil her as much as I can whenever Bourbon lets me near her.”

I took another bite of my toast and looked up to find Presley staring at me, wearing a similar smile as he looked into my eyes.

“What?” I asked around my food, resting my fingers against my mouth.

“Nothing.” He shook his head.

“Do I have butter on my chin?”

“No.” He chuckled. “I just like the look you wear when you talk about something you love. You know: Bourbon. Fliss. Byran Adams. Bon Jovi—”

“It’s BonFuckingJovi. Give that band the respect they deserve.”

“Bon Fucking Jovi,” he repeated on a laugh. “Sorry.”

I swallowed my food carefully. “You know, someday there’s going to be a kid, a girl, a woman out there in the world who sits at a kitchen counter one morning, looking into the eyes of a boy she likes, and she’s going to say something like ‘Hey! It’s Presley Fucking West to you’ because she adores you the way I love Bryan and The Jovi. The way you love Bonham.”

“Yeah?” He raised a brow.

“Yeah.”

“That would be kinda cool.”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

Presley dropped his elbows to the counter. His hips swayed, and his muscular, shirtless chest tensed, as did his biceps, as he stared at me.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.” I smirked, taking another bite of my toast.

“You’ve been here all night, and you’ve not mentioned your actual family once. Why not?”

Offering him a shrug, I looked down at the tiny bit of crust left pinched between my fingers, and I swallowed hard. “Nothing much to tell. We’re nothing but a regular family.”

“I call bullshit.”

My eyes snapped up to his, and the sexy rat bastard brought me to my knees without even trying.

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