Page 43 of Stone
Attached is a photo of his freshly sprayed baby pink, glittery bike.
Fuck.
I quickly message back.
Me:
fuck, just do it, I need my wife’s forgiveness.
I attach Rose’s number and press send before putting my phone back away, knowing life is about to get interesting if Annalise has anything to do with it. She is fully experienced with alpha holes messing up.
“Come on, trouble, let’s go and spend the evening with your family before I ravish you,” I murmur as I gently kiss her neck. She shivers, her laughter stopping as she tenses, clearly hating her reaction to me and most likely scolding her own body.
I smile before I pull her towards the yard, knowing full well this woman will be on my lap, curled in my arms while we sit around the bonfire.
Rose comes willingly, burrowed into my side, and I grin widely.
Yeah, we’re going to be just fine, I do have a fight on my hands, but still, we’ll be alright.
Chapter 20
Rose
I groan as the constant knocking on the door wakes me from my deep slumber, the night shift I’ve just done as my first shift back already taking me out, while Cage’s smell hits my senses instantly.
Okay, so sue me, I stole his shirt before he could wake up this morning.
I seem to sleep better in them if I’m honest, and with working nights, I struggle as it is, and am I surprised that Doc was my supervisor last night? Not one fricking bit.
He spent the night trying to talk to me while flitting between the ER and the Ped’s department, but the man is still on my shit list, and he knows it. He set me up with his married brother, then continued to lie to me every single day about Cage actuallybeing a part of the club, and watched as I put him before my career.
All the little stutters when he brought Cage up, nearly giving him away as a brother.
Like I said, the man is on my shit list and thankfully I only have three more nights to ignore him before I continue my course with the pediatric cardiology doctor, Dr. Marshal, who, according to Sally, once he’s worked with me, it’s very likely he will want to keep me and train me in-house, so fingers crossed.
The knocking intensifies, and I huff as I climb out of bed.
I’ve had four hours of sleep, that is it, and I’m due back at the hospital at eight tonight, so whoever this is, better have a really good reason for waking me.
I stomp through my apartment, my eyes still a little blurry from sleep, before I reach my front door, the banging intensifying.
How did they even get past the front entrance door? Unless it’s a neighbor dying…
“It better be a neighbor dying...” I mumble.
I fling the door open with anger before I come face to face with, what looks like a prostitute, to be honest.
Sandy blonde hair straightened, face full of makeup, a tiny pink dress that is actually netted on both sides, showing a lot of skin, while wearing stripper heels.
The girl can’t be more than twenty, maybe twenty-one, but it’s the eyes I recognize, ones so much like…My husband's.
Damn, I’m never going to get used to that, am I? Husband?
The girl curls her lip at me, looking at my attire – her brother's tee – before she sneers, “Sleeping in, are we?”
I raise a brow and reply, “Well, yeah, I’ve just worked a thirteen-hour nightshift.”
The girl pauses for a moment, like she didn’t realize I worked before she composes herself again and demands, “Do you know who I am?”
