Your window probably won’t be fixed for a week so pack a bag.
Don’t disappear or I’m calling Cam and sending Leo after you.
Love you, Dad.
They say men are attracted to women who are like their mothers and women are attracted to men who are like their fathers. This must be true considering I’m attracted to hot, uber-macho, bossy guys.
I also had a note from Meredith which said:
Morning honey,
There are fresh bagels in the fridge, Einstein’s. Whipped cream cheese, your favorite.
See you tonight!
Hugs, Meredith
PS: I cannot tell you how happy I am for you after meeting Hawk! He’s so cute! And he’s sweet! And he’s smitten! YAY!
Cute? Sweet? Smitten? With underlines? And… yay?
Obviously my Dad wasn’t attracted to women like me. Good to know.
After coffee, a bagel and note reading, I had taken more than my usual going-to-sit-at-a-computer-all-day care with my appearance because I kept running into hot guys. Usually, I worked in yoga pants, camisoles or babydoll tees and lightweight hoodies. If it was summer, I might switch it up with shorts.
That morning I’d used Meredith’s makeup and curling iron (why she needed a curling iron with curly hair, I did not know but she had everything that had anything to do with being a girl, one of the many reasons why I loved her) and I curled my long hair into a mass of curls and waves with a heavy fall of hair at the front. I also put on makeup, something I never did unless I was going out. The rest, I couldn’t help because I’d packed in the middle of the night after a break-in, meeting a new hot guy and another bizarre and annoying (but, unfortunately, hot) confrontation with Hawk. So it was just jeans, a light blue tee from Thrifty Stick (a cool boarder shop on Broadway, I didn’t board but, like I mentioned, I could shop anywhere), with a black skull and crossbones above my br**sts that had a red “T” and “S” on and red bands around the neckline and sleeves, black belt, boots and thin, hooded, cardie sweater.
And I was glad I’d curled my hair and done my makeup and I was also glad I had on my killer, wire-rimmed, cop shades with the gray semi-mirrored lenses when I drove up to my house and saw it had a bunch of motorcycles and a big, black van parked in front of it.
Holy, freaking, crap!
I drove into my driveway trying to steer my little, blue Hyundai in while still keeping my eyes on what appeared to be an army of bikers hanging out on my lawn and going in and out of my house.
Clearly my house wasn’t hard to break into, as had been proved last night, and it had been made easier by the fact there was only a board where the window should be but now the door was wide open and the board was gone. In fact, the entire window was gone.
And Tack was standing on my lawn with Dog and he was wearing cool mirrored shades too and they were pointed toward my car.
I barely pulled up the parking brake when he moved away from Dog and started in my direction. Therefore, when I got out, he was there, pinning me between my car and the door.
I looked up at him instantly comparing. Shorter than both Hawk and Lawson but he could seriously work facial hair. And I wasn’t having a flight of fancy the day before. On the hot-o-meter he rang the top bell and he rang it loud.
“Hey,” I said but it came out kind of breathy.
“Hey peaches,” he replied, not breathy at all but deep and gravelly.
“Um… what are you doing here?” I asked, taking that opportunity to glance toward my house to see a biker had a tape measure and was measuring my window.
“Heard word you had a visitor last night,” Tack said and I looked back at him.
“Kind of, he was… uh, interrupted before I could, um… offer him some chocolate chip cookie dough,” I told him.
This garnered me a white teeth surrounded by salt and pepper goatee’ed smile and I made a mental note to stop being a smartass because, apparently, badasses liked smartass women.
Then Tack stated, “You didn’t call.”
“Um… no, I didn’t call,” I agreed.
“Told you, you get in a situation, you call,” he went on.