Page 1 of Bone’s Choice

Chapter One

Bone

I opened my eyes and stared at the empty spot beside me. Well, not exactly empty.

A piece of white paper sat on the pillow where a woman had been when I fell asleep. A bright red lipstick kiss was stamped on the bottom corner, and a few words were scribbled across the middle.

Last night was amazing. Give me a call. xo

I stared at the note for a few seconds before reaching over and grabbing it. “Yeah. That’s not happening.” I crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it onto the floor beside the bed.

She’d been hanging around the clubhouse for the better part of the night, drinking with everyone before she’d ended up in my bed. I remembered that part just fine.

The rest? Didn’t matter.

Last night had been last night. Today was today.

I dropped back against my pillow and folded my hands behind my head.

I didn’t do attachment. Never had.

Women knew the deal when they came around the Grave Prowlers. At least, they should’ve known it. I wasn’t promising anyone breakfast in the morning or a date the next weekend. I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, an ol’ lady, or whatever the fuck else came along with a woman leaving lipstick notes on my pillow.

I liked women.

I liked sex.

I just didn’t need all the shit that came after it.

My life was already full.

There wasn’t some empty spot beside me that I was waiting for the right woman to fill.

I turned my head and looked at the pillow again. Well, technically there was an empty spot, but I liked it that way.

I chuckled and looked back at the ceiling.

Seven-thirty.

I’d slept later than I normally did, but it was Sunday, and nothing was on fire.

At least, nothing had been on fire when I’d gone to bed.

I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed my phone.

No missed calls.

No emergency texts.

Nothing from Myth telling me I needed to get my ass downstairs.

That was always a good sign.

I dropped the phone onto my chest and started running through what I needed to get done.

First thing was the wood delivery. It was supposed to be here by eight, and I wanted to put eyes on it before it was unloaded. We’d paid a small fucking fortune for this shipment. Black walnut.

Not the shit you bought at a lumberyard to slap together a bookshelf. This was the good stuff. Kiln-dried slabs we’d been waiting months to get our hands on—the kind of wood that would eventually become custom caskets worth more than some people’s cars.