“To drugs?” she asked with a slightly scrunched face.
“To boys with motorcycles, things like math club and anything consisting of frog dissection.” I said then paused. “Well, and drugs also.”
She blew me a kiss and joined the steady stream of kids walking through the doors. I narrowed my eyes at the smoking man-boy, whose sunglasses followed Lexie’s journey into the school. Crapballs.
“You think we should get the women some coffees before we break the news?” Brock asked Cade as they swung off their bikes.
Cade stared at him. “I think we need to give them vodka shots. But considering it’s eight in the morning and my woman is pregnant I’m settling for decaf and pastries.”
Brock shook his head. “I thought Gwen despised decaf. I’m pretty sure she once referred to it as ‘decaffeinated bullshit.’” He finger quoted as they entered the coffee shop.
Cade raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, this time around she’s craving coffee something wicked and decaf’s her only option. It’s under protest. I swear she fuckin’ flinches every time she takes a sip. Then glares at me for not lettin’ her have the normal shit.”
Brock laughed. The edges of Bull’s mouth turned up slightly. Gwen was the only bitch who could make him feel like happiness was possible. Not long term; it would never be long term. But he could have small moments of respite from the ash he tasted on his tongue, the poison swirling in his belly. Those moments were fleeting, brief as fuck. But his best friend’s Old Lady managed to make it seem like he could breathe slightly.
“I worry for my safety the moment I have to take cocktails and coffee away from Sparky,” Brock muttered as they approached the counter.
Cade chuckled and glanced down at his phone. “Hey, baby, you okay?” he answered softly.
Bull watched his friend. He swore every time he answered the phone he braced. His body relaxed as soon as his wife reassured him she was good. He didn’t blame him. Shit he went through with Gwen would make any man vigilant. Worried. That and the fact Gwen was a loose fucking unit. Add Amy and fuckin’ Rosie to the equation, and you had a recipe for disaster.
Brock started joking with Shelly while she got their coffees and Bull struggled to still his mind. Maybe struggled was too light a word. He fuckin’ battled, attacked and quietly combatted the demons which had taken up residence in the barren fuckin’ wasteland inside his head. Those demons were relentless. It was a constant war fighting the images, the memories that came with them. Every moment of every day he wasn’t on his bike was a moment he was engaged with those demons. It was constant. It was exhausting and it was the fight for his life, because he knew if he let those demons win, it was over.
So that’s what he was doing when he saw them. He was fighting those demons, and then all of a sudden he wasn’t. He was looking into eyes that stilled the battle. Silenced the screams. Those eyes gave him quiet. Gave him respite. Blue as the ocean. He struggled to move away from those eyes, to see the rest of her. She was beautiful. Fuckin’ stunning. His cock jerked in his pants at her heart shaped face. Her rosebud full lips, her long blonde hair curling around her face. Tits. Small but fuckin’ perfect. Then he caught himself. Then the demons came back and he scowled at her, the woman who had made him forget his fight.
“Coffee, brother?” Brock jerked him out of his head.
Bull tore his gaze away from those doe eyes. He jerked his head in answer.
Shelly smiled and waved in the direction of the table, which caused Brock to turn his eyes toward the woman. Those eyes. Bull tried. He fuckin’ battled not to follow Brock’s gaze, to meet those eyes again. But it seemed he was fuckin’ useless. He silently fumed at his inability to keep his eyes off her.
“Tourists?” Brock asked Shelly as the woman stood.
Bull’s cock hardened fully in his pants at the sight of her. Her tight little body was covered head to toe by a white blouse and tight black slacks, but there was no hiding it. Bull’s cock twitched again as she bent to retrieve a handbag, her ass perfectly hugged by the material encasing it. He visualized himself sinking into her from behind as his fingers bit into that ass.
“Nope,” Shelly answered as Bull struggled to get his cock under control. “They just moved here. Mia’s taking over management of The Cottage.”
Fuck. Fuckin’ living here? Bull would have to know this bitch was in his town, fuckin’ strutting that sweet ass around, trying to fuckin’ kill him? He clenched his fists.