“Maybe that’s why you don’t have a wife.”
Fucking hell this kid. I put her antibiotic in the fridge then open up my junk drawer and find what I’m looking for. “Here.” I hand Wylla Mae the pad of paper and an ink pen.
“What’s this for?”
“Go draw or write a letter to your best friend or some shit. I don’t know.”
“Do you have any games? I like games.”
“No.”
“I’m bored, East.”
“Christ on a cracker.” I huff.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. Just sit on the couch. I’ll be back.” I grab my cigarettes and lighter off the kitchen counter wishing it wasn’t too damn early to crack open a beer. I walk outside and suck in a breath. This kid is going to be the death of me. She never shuts up. All night last night she chattered till my damn ears felt like they were going numb from the sound of her voice. I passed out sometime around one in the morning on the couch. The Tv was still on and that damn motormouth was still rambling. Swear my hand to God I could hear her talking in my damn sleep.
I take out a cigarette and light it up. I feel calmer the moment the familiar burn of smoke pulls through my lungs. I lean over the railing of the porch and stare out at the view of the river. The tranquil sound of the water moving against the bank usually settles my spirit. It’s going to be a long day and I already want a damn nap.
Chapter 3
Easton
“I can’t thank you enough for keeping my Wylla Mae for me,” Alexa thanks me for the third time since she showed up on my doorstep twenty minutes ago to collect the kid.
“No worries. We survived.”
She bats her long thick lashes at me. “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Mom, East makes the best chicken in the whole world. You should make it for her for dinner sometime,” she prompts, staring at me.
“Yeah, um sure. Whatever you want, Lil’ Lady.”
“What’s this?” Alexa turns Wylla Mae’s wrist over inspecting the fading tattoo Roane gave her.
“My tattoo. Isn’t it pretty? I’m going to get a real one as soon as I’m old enough.”
Alexa smiles at her daughter. The woman is gorgeous, and I can see a lot of where Wylla Mae gets her features from. When she grows up, she will be one hell of a heartbreaker.
“Let me treat you to dinner. My place. I won’t take no for an answer,” Alexa presses, gliding her manicured fingers up and down my forearm.
“Please, East. Pretty please with cherries on top,” Wylla Mae starts in, giving me her signature pout.
“Sure. Name the time. I’ll be there.” I’m a damn sucker.
“Perfect,” Alexa purrs, leaning in close. “I’ll make you something special for the occasion. I’m betting you’re a beer man. I bet I can guess your label too.”
I pull back slightly uncomfortable with the way her tits are rubbing up against me with her kid standing here watching. “No doubt.”
“How’s tomorrow night work for you?”
Both are staring at me now, putting me on the spot, but I find myself unable to say no to either of them. “Sounds good.”
“It’s a date.” She shoots me this look with her eyes that tells me she plans on doing a lot more than feeding me. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, East.”
I bet she is, and I’m enough of a bastard to let her.