Silas (Dirty Aces MC #4) - Lane Hart Page 0,21

of a brown mushroom.

Guess I’ll have to stick to ponytails that tame my mane.

It seems like it takes forever to get the hair chemicals mixed, then squeeze the bottle to make sure the foul-smelling liquid covers every inch of my roots and thick curls. I sit outside during the thirty-minute wait instead of stinking up the house. It’s nice to be able to watch the sunset turn the sky above the ocean beautiful shades of purple and pink. I have to get up and glance inside every few minutes to keep an eye on the alarm clock since I don’t have a cell phone anymore. That’s something I need to ask Sam about before he leaves tomorrow.

He’s already given me so much that I hate to ask for anything; but at the same time, once he leaves, I’ll feel safer with a phone in case of an emergency.

Silas

* * *

Thanks to passing out before ten o’clock last night, I’m up bright and early, and yet Cora still beats me. By the time I take another ice-cold shower to get rid of my morning wood, she’s already in the kitchen, making French toast that smells delicious, while wearing a short yellow summer dress that hugs all her curves. Although, I do a double take when my eyes finally lift to above her neck and I notice her ponytail is no longer the beautiful red.

Glancing over her shoulder when she hears my footsteps, she says, “Morning” before turning back to the stove.

“Morning,” I reply, taking a seat at the bar. “You’re up early.”

“I wanted to make sure you had something to eat before you leave,” she says, which is ridiculous.

“I can feed myself,” I assure her, causing her shoulders and back to tense.

“I don’t mind,” Cora responds. “It’ll only be a few more minutes, if you can wait.”

“I’m not leaving until I show you how to shoot a gun, remember?”

“Oh, right,” she says without turning around. “I wasn’t sure if you still wanted to do that or not.”

“I get that you’re not a fan of guns, but I guarantee you’ll feel safer with the gun than without it while you’re here alone.”

“If you say so,” she mutters. Cora scoops up the toast with a spatula, plopping them down on two plates to drizzle syrup on them. After adding a fork, she slides one of the plates in front of me and says, “Here you go” before she goes over and eats hers while standing near the stove.

Even though my abs haven’t recovered after the pork, potatoes, and pie last night, I still dig in, unable to resist the sweet-smelling breakfast.

I’ve just swallowed my first piece when Cora asks, “Is it okay if I get a new phone? I won’t call anyone I knew from before, but it would be nice to have it.”

Fuck.

I should’ve realized she would need a phone. In fact, one with my number in it would be a good idea in case anything happens, like if someone recognizes her as a missing person.

“Yes, you can have a phone,” I tell her. “Sorry I didn’t think about it before.”

“Now who’s apologizing?” she asks with a small smile.

A grunt is my only response to that before I go back to my breakfast.

Neither of us say anything else. When Cora finishes eating, she puts her plate in the sink and reaches for mine, washing up everything while I lean back on the stool and wait.

When she spends a long ass time scrubbing, I think she’s intentionally drawing this out because she’s dreading the gun lesson I’m about to give her. Since that’s all my fault, I refrain from yelling at her to hurry the fuck up. Barely.

Finally, after it takes half an hour to wash up a handful of dishes, even though there’s a dishwasher, I get up and go into the kitchen, opening cabinets until I find what I’m looking for – three brightly colored glasses.

“What are those for?” Cora asks.

“These are going to be your targets,” I explain, holding up the blue, red, and green glasses.

“You want me to shoot at them?” she says in disbelief.

“They’re the best I can do on short notice,” I tell her. “Now come on,” I say, leading the way to the back doors to go out on the enormous deck. This place really does have the best view.

I place each of the glasses about three feet apart on the far railing. Retrieving my gun from my underarm holster, I remove the full clip and