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Our…life together…makes fucking sense.
For us.
It has since he was eighteen, and I swore he’d never wear another bruise on his jaw.
Not from his old man.
Not from fucking anyone.
And to this fucking day he hasn’t.
And that’s not shit that’s gonna suddenly change because there’s a pair of great tits in need of a tune up downstairs.
The two of us exit the apartment, taking the stairs down into the shop in silence.
He’s pouting, but I don’t care.
Alright, I do fucking care, but I’m not gonna let him know that shit.
It’ll pass.
He’ll rub one out to the thoughts of her and her tongue ring rolling around his dick and snap out of it.
Worked for me.
Hell, he can do it twice if necessary.
“Morning,” Kipp bashfully greets the woman contorting herself to brush her teeth in her side mirror.
Or…maybe not.
Bunny offers him a tiny pinky wave in return before flashing her middle finger at me.
Eh.
Not the coldest welcome I’ve ever had.
Hell, it ain’t even the coldest I’ve had this week.
“Sleep okay?” The Kid questions while sliding behind the counter. “Want some coffee?” He adjusts his rarely worn navy work shirt as if it matters. But it doesn’t. No matter which way he tugs it, he’s not going to look anymore grown up. He’s still just a kid too concerned with getting his dick touched instead of his bank account stuffed. More interested in chasing his wet dreams than dreaming about getting the fuck out of this shithole town. “I can go grab you a cup. It’s freshly made.”
She swishes around the water in her mouth before spitting it back into the water bottle, she’s holding. “Depends.” The nuance with unreal legs twists the cap back on. “Did your mutt over there drool in it during the process?”
“I can,” I coldly retort prior to having a sip of my own beverage from beside my best friend.
“No,” Kipp rushes to reassure. “I made the coffee. I…always make the coffee.”
“Aw,” Bunny theatrically pouts, “can’t teach the old dog new tricks, huh?”
Speaking over his low chuckles isn’t difficult. “Depends on the type of carrot you’re willing to offer, rabbit.”
Her bright brown gaze widens to the size of the rims hitched to her under inflated tires. “What the fuck did you just call me?”
“Wasn’t on the list of names to avoid, sweetheart.” A victorious smirk slaps itself onto my face at the same time I place the cup on the counter. “Although, you might wanna add it now.”
“Or maybe,” Kipp interjects, tossing me a displeased scowl during his pause, “we might wanna talk about your car instead?”
The sigh that precedes her question is heavy. Too heavy. Damn sure too heavy for someone her size to ever be carrying around. “Is this the part of the conversation where you tell me there’s good news and bad news?”
