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“Well, there you go.”
“Houses take a long time to build.”
“Yeah, you’ll probably have your baby while living at the Pigsty.”
“Or I can get a rental.”
Hobo chuckles. “Dude, moving is stressful. Why do it so much? Just settle into the Pigsty.”
“How the fuck can a baby live there?”
“It’s a tiny thing,” he replies, grinning at my irritation. “Your room has plenty of space for a crib. A crying baby will act as solid birth control for the other guys. During parties, stay in your room, fuck your woman, and play with your baby. Let the world pass by outside your safe space. Then, when your house is done, you can move. I really don’t see where the problem is.”
“And Fiona?”
“That’s up to Irina. I guess it’s not beyond the realm of insanity to think of Fiona Rogers living at the Pigsty. She doesn’t do much at her house. I can imagine sticking her somewhere at our clubhouse.”
“None of that is going to work.”
“Well, I’d love to say you could move into the guesthouse, but we both know that ain’t flying.”
“So, it’s not quite as simple as you painted.”
“And it’s not quite as complicated as you think. I see you all the time looking for reasons to shut down shit or feel left out. You’re more comfortable off to the side on your own. But that’s not where you’re your best.”
Hobo nudges me. “View things in a more positive way. Like, acknowledge how you’re a good friend to have. And how you make this chick happy. I know you can do the dad thing. That isn’t a complicated job. But you have to accept what’s in front of you and avoid sabotaging yourself.”
Though Hobo’s right, I can’t settle down. He stops trying to nap and sits up.
“Keep it simple,” Hobo tells me before pulling in the rods and preparing to bring the boat back to the dock. “Talk to Ruin and deal with Jimbo. Fix that problem first.”
“Killing is what I know how to do.”
“I can’t imagine a better Christmas gift than ending that asshole.”
In my head, I try to picture what Irina’s doing right now. I can’t wrap my head around her life at the Rogers property.
Is she safe? Who would stop Jimbo from shoving his way into the guesthouse and taking whatever he wants? Todd Rogers has all those hired guns who worry about threats outside the gates. What would they do to protect Fiona or Irina from Jimbo? My guess is nothing.
Restless now, I leave Hobo to hang out with Smokey and Walla Walla at the Pigsty. A sharp chill beats back the earlier mellow weather. By the time I reach Ruin’s place, I’m bone cold.
Before I headed this way, I texted to make sure he was around. With Selene sick a lot, Ruin’s been working from home more.
My ego grumbles over how Irina might be dealing with pregnancy shit without me being in the loop. Why is she hiding from me? I suddenly worry she’s got one foot out the door while I’m planning a life together.
After I arrive, Ruin walks around the side of his large rustic two-story house. He wears a black knit cap, blue jeans, work boots, and a heavy russet leather jacket. I feel underdressed in the growing cold.
At Ruin’s side is his Chesapeake Bay retriever. Wise Guy trots over to sniff me.
“It’s nearly winter, Eagle,” Ruin mutters and gestures with his chin to follow him inside. “You need to wear a fucking jacket.”
“I was in a hurry, and the weather changed when I was riding.”
“That’s why knowing the season is important.”
Narrowing my eyes, I frown at the back of his head. Once we’re inside, his daughter, Joie notices my expression from her spot curled up in a chair with Yazmin’s tiny dog. The thirteen-year-old tomboy snorts at my irritation. Ruin immediately glances over his shoulder to catch what I’m doing. I only stare at him as we walk through the two-story family room.
“Selene and Yazmin are resting, so keep your voice down,” Ruin grumbles despite my silence and reputation for being quiet.
