Page 39 of Not Your Romeo
“Good. Ain’t no ol’ lady of mine playing in the mud. Now– The boxing ring–” He hefted his brows, squinted slightly, and nodded, “My bets are on you all day, darlin’. What do they call that shot anyhow? The Snake? Is that what the kids still call it these days?”
“Fuck you.” I shoved him again and he smirked, hauling me into a bear hug.
“Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here,” he rumbled, laughter staining his words.
Chapter Seventeen
Out With the Old
Roisin
I awoke to his kisses sprinkling up the side of my neck and jaw. By the time he claimed my mouth, I was smiling in anticipation.
“Good morning, handsome,” I sleepily murmured.
“It is,” he agreed, sweeping a long strand of hair away from my face. “I thought maybe I’d grab a shower, and we could see about a diner breakfast?”
“French toast?”
His stomach growled, answering on his behalf.
He laughed and pressed another kiss to my cheek before rolling off the bed. “See you in fifteen,” he announced.
“Fifteen? I can’t even brush the knots out of my hair in fifteen minutes,” I protested, with a laugh.
“Put a hat on.” He turned to leave, darting as he got to the door when he noticed me grabbing a pillow to hurl at him.
“Asshole,” I laughed, as I stood up with a stretch.
I brushed my hair, and was about to find some clothes, when I heard a knock at the door.
“Fuckin’ Henny.” I groaned, hoping it was him, and not Griz.
I wasn’t sure I was ready to look Griz in the eyes after my performance last night. I glanced down, assuring Zig’s shirt covered my upper thighs before I opened the door.
A snort ripped my attention to a middle-aged woman with a pinched expression. She promptly rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Never fails. Anytime responsibility or family comes a calling, Wyatt hurries off to busy himself with wars or whores.”
She put her foot on the threshold and tried to bump past me, shifting her purse tight to her body. I snaked my hand out, caught her by the throat and thrust her back out to the top step. She shrieked wildly and clutched at the handrail on the porch, while staring at me like I’d lost my fucking mind.
“Excuse you. Who the fuck do you think you are?” I snapped at her bewildered ass.
Her face contorted, the purse dropped, and she hurled herself at me. Adrenaline rushed through me and just when I shot my hands out, Ziggy’s body lodged between us. His hand catching her shoulder and sending her back to the rail with seemingly little effort at all.
“I’m his wife and the mother of his children!” The woman screamed.
“Ex,” Ziggy’s voice boomed. “Ex-wife. You’re addressing my current wife at the moment. Roisin, this is Jolene, Sammy, and the kids’ mom. Jo, this is Roisin. Now, what the hell do you want, woman?”
He glared at her, disgust written all over his features.
She gave a hard huff and shook her head, “You’re a piece of work, you know that, Wyatt? The police said they spoke to you. Don’t you think maybe you could have scrounged up the decency to have called me? Did you forget that one of your trashy-ass friends broke out of jail and took our daughter as his hostage?”
Ziggy groaned.
“You smell like a brewery. I can tell you’re really torn up about it.” Jolene nodded judgmentally.
“You done?” Ziggy asked after she’d briefly turned quiet.
She squinted at him, then her attention pivoted to me and her head cocked. She pointedly bugged her eyes and extended her neck, thrusting her head forward.
