Bulldog: Hounds of the Reaper MC by S.J. Rowe

Author:S.J. Rowe [Rowe, S.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Hounds of the Reaper MC
Published: 2023-01-17T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 17 – Izzy

I

did wait up. Which is why, at 6:00 a.m., a bundle of five-year-old elbow drops me on the couch. Talk about a good morning to me. The prospect slept in the recliner and snored like a freaking train all night long, or what was left of the night. So I feel zero hurt feelings for turning on cartoons and just letting the day take off. He got more sleep than me, so he should be thankful I didn’t have her pour water on him or something.

“You look like shit.”

“And good morning to you, too, Margret.”

She grumbles, but at least I see a twitch of a smile this time. Maybe she likes the sassy-need-more-sleep way I speak to her. Which is completely fine ’cause I doubt that part will go away for a while unless I get a nap. And with the way a little girl is now refusing naps for the fourth week in a row, I don’t see that happening. I wonder if I can make her run laps to tire her out a bit and then do what the typical parent does—trick the kid into thinking it’s later than it is for an earlier bedtime. She’s learning to read clocks, though. I wonder how far I can play this.

Move all the clocks ahead two hours and then somehow move them back three hours to get an extra hour of sleep in the morning?

Damn, I forgot how much energy you need to have with kids around so much.

“Where’s Bulldog?” Margret asks.

“He had to go out.” I don’t know if he wants me to let his mom know about the fire or not. My mother would have freaked out, but I doubt that’s Margret’s MO.

She nods. “Pussy or club business?”

Ever snort hot coffee out your nose? It burns like a motherfucker. But it’s still better than thinking about the pang of jealousy that stabs a bit of my heart at the mention of another woman in his life. I get that he isn’t the typical nice guy, even if the images I have of him at the lake that summer have definitely taken on a life of their own. Going so far as thinking up what he was doing and how we would see each other again. Him being in a club was definitely not in the list of possibilities. I also selfishly thought he would have kept himself, you know, single for me to just waltz in and pick up where we left off before we became happily ever after.

Which is ridiculous. I didn’t wait for him, and the moves he put on me a few hours ago prove he picked up a thing or two. Maybe twenty. Lastly, the whole club thing does come with a healthy dose of no-strings-attached fun tit-bags.

I clear my throat before I answer her. “Club business, I think.”

“That explains the prospect. Don’t explain the noises I heard in the early hours. Sounded like a pig squealing.”

I don’t squeal. Or I don’t think I do.

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