AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My dad did birthday parties and other kid events. He’d bring me along as part of his act. Eventually, I did it on my own. Turns out a girl clown is far less terrifying than a dude decked out in Pennywise makeup.”
West kisses my forehead. “It’s very important for me to see you every day.”
“Are you melodramatic, and I’m your sedative?”
West frowns at my words, either not understanding or getting his big boy britches in a knot.
“You walked away five years ago.”
“So you claim. I still don’t think that happened.”
“Why would I lie?”
“Studs love their pickup lines.”
“No,” he says, clearly offended by the insinuation that he—as a very attractive, sexually aggressive male—would ever need to lie to win a girl’s interest. After all, why use words when he could simply flash his hundred-watt smile or even rip off his shirt. Exhaling hard, he adds, “I looked for you for five years.”
“Seems like if you looked with any real vigor, you’d have found me. I visited twice.”
West’s handsome face turns wicked. “I’m kicking your family’s ass.”
“For not telling you that I was in town?”
“Exactly.”
“But they thought the guy asking was creepy. Why would they help a potential serial killer locate their fellow Toomey?”
“They know exactly who I am.”
“How?”
“I’m West Mercer,” he declares with such enthusiasm that I can’t help but applaud. “That name means something around here.”
“Because you’re a grade-A beefcake in a town filled with greasy ground beef?”
West grins at my phrasing. “Sure, but my family also runs the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club.”
“Maybe my family thinks your family is bullies.”
“Only because your family is losers.”
What’s the proper response to such an insult?Slap his handsome face? No, violence with a very large man won’t end well with my toddler strength.
How about screaming at him for being a crusty, disease-spreading fart-face? No, probably best not to give people more reason to think redheads are volatile.
I settle on silently sulking. When our brownie arrives, I lower my head and avoid making eye contact with the delicious chocolate temptation.
“I didn’t mean you were a loser,” he says and scoops up a mix of brownie and ice cream.
Dodging his attempt to "airplane” the food into my mouth, I mutter, “I might have a different last name, but I am a Toomey.”
“No, babe, you’re hot.”
Turning away from the spoonful of sin, I mumble, “I can’t eat when you’ve cut my heart so deeply.”
West frowns. “So, I have to give up hating your family cold turkey? Seems a bit extreme.”
I cover my mouth to avoid him shoving the bite inside. He sighs dramatically, so very pouty in a way any PMSing teenage girl could sympathize with. Finally, he kisses the top of my head.
