I smile but it’s weak because I’ve always been brought up to believe that money should be earned and doesn’t come easy.
Razor approaches the counter and asks, “What are you having?”
“Coffee, white, oat milk if they have it.”
The server nods, and Razor orders an espresso—of course he does—and while we wait for the drinks, we take a seat by the window.
Even sitting across from this man is a humbling experience, and part of me wonders what the future has in store for us. Could this be my life, with him, or will it be something else? Will I walk away from them one day when this broken angel is considered fixed?
CHAPTER 17
RAZOR
Shopping always leaves me cold, but shopping with Sunday is more fun than I realized. It’s good following her around while checking her ass without being caught. Imagining what I’ll do to her when we head back to the compound.
My imagination is pretty wild right now, and anticipation is high.
She is so cute, a small voluptuous package that I will take great delight in unwrapping in a few short hours.
I’m feeling pretty good about life right now. Sunday is easily the prettiest girl to walk through those bar doors—to me anyway—and the fact she appears to like me back is a surprise I wasn’t expecting.
I whore around. Hell, the opportunities are in abundance, but since Sunday arrived, I only have eyes for one woman, and it scares me.
Not much does, but commitment is the basis of my nightmares. I will never take an old lady or a permanent girl; it’s not fair on them to ask.
I may be overthinking this; it’s been one day, but if this arrangement never changed, I would be a very happy man indeed.
I never appreciated the pleasure of being with a woman outside of sex before. The intimacy it brings trailing after her in the grocery store. She is with me and I am so proud of that. I didn’t miss the envious stares of the men as they checked her out, lowering their eyes when I glared in their direction, ignoring the women who attempted to capture mine.
Now, in the coffee shop, we are doing what normal people do. Chilling, preparing to relax over a coffee, while the sun beats through the window.
Sunday smiles and leans on her hands, her blue eyes twinkling as she speaks in her sweet voice, “Thank you for coming with me.”
“Anytime, darlin’.”
My smile is soft as I lean forward and add, “No need to wait in the yard for a ride, darlin’. You want to go anywhere you come and find me.”
“What if you’re on a job and I need to get to town?”
“I’ll buy you a car.”
Her eyes widen. “You will buy me a car. Why do I suspect you mean that?”
“I do.”
I shrug, not revealing that the thought of Sunday clinging to the back of my brothers is already causing my blood to boil. I’ll keep my possessive shit to myself because Sunday is not my property and never will be. This way she gets her independence, and I keep her away from the horny bastards I live with. If I’m going to keep her exclusive for me, I must make her want to stay.
“Tell me about yourself, Razor. Your real name to begin with.”
“Why?”
She rolls her eyes, “Because it’s called conversation.”
For some reason, I chuckle, and she shakes her head. “You don’t like to talk about yourself, do you?”
“No.”
I stand as they call out my name and fetch the coffee, and when I return she smiles her thanks.