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Paperback
First published January 28, 2016







“I mean, if you wreck this murdercycle, a helmet like this isn’t going to help you.” “Murdercycle?” he asked, smiling as he buckled the helmet.
She wasn’t out fucking randoms. She wasn’t a barfly. The woman was a single parent and had a good job. She was old lady material. Wife material. Fuck.
Hell, I probably never would have looked at her again if I hadn’t seen her at the hospital. Even in a bar, my eyes would have slid right past her.
“Remember that, ladies. Drink water and moisturize.”
“Once a beautician, always a beautician,” Farrah said loftily. “We’re like the Marines.”
A man and a woman got off, and my stomach sunk in realization. Will’s hair was longer than it had been when we were together, and it was tied back in a super short ponytail at the base of his neck. A few strands fell forward as he pulled off his helmet, and he unconsciously brushed them behind his ears as he laughed at something the woman said. I glanced at her and my stomach rolled. She was pretty. Long brown hair that looked tangled from the ride, and light eyes, either blue or green. I couldn’t tell the color when she moved her sunglasses to the top of her head.
“Casey? She’s not my old lady.” “She’s something,” I replied, watching him squirm. “She’s a friend.” “Bullshit.” “I’m not with her.” “You’ve fucked her,” I said flatly, immediately regretting it when Rebel shifted on my lap. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I have.”
“You dumped me and started sleeping with her,” I shot back. “Pretty fucking relevant!”
“You—” I choked, swallowing hard. “You made me feel like nothing.”
“But I haven’t had sex in eighteen months.” “No one since me?”
“Hey,” Lily yelled, pulling my attention forward again.
She turned her face toward the stage, her unfocused eyes pointed in our direction. “I want more Offspring.”
I smiled as Leo chuckled. “Nah,” he called out quietly, knowing Lily would hear him. “Pretty girl deserves a pretty girl song.”
Leo met Trix’s eyes and I had no idea how she knew, but she immediately started playing. I laughed quietly, then joined in, looking back at Leo for a second.
His eyes were soft—that’s the only way I knew how to explain it. They were tender, indulgent, and they were pointed right at Lily, who was smiling sweetly as her hips moved from side to side, her arms high above her head.
Leo sang the first verse of “Sweet Child O’ Mine” in his gravelly voice.

