Free Vodka On The Rocks (The Uncertain Saints Book 3) by Lani Lynn Vale Page A

the agony from the night before.
    I tiptoed out of the room, heading straight for mine.
    “She okay?” Rhea asked.
    I looked up to see both her and CeeCee at the dining room table.
    I nodded.
    “She’s fine.”
    “Okay,” Rhea’s small voice followed me into my room as I closed the door.
    I showered and partially shaved, leaving my goatee because it covered up a few more scars on my face.
    I got dressed and ready for work before I went out to the kitchen, towards the smell of frying bacon.
    What surprised me, though, was that it wasn’t my sisters who were frying the bacon.
    It was Tasha.
    “Mornin’,” I rumbled, making all three of them turn toward me.
    My eyes were all for Tasha, though.
    She smiled shyly at me.
    “What kind of eggs do you like?” She waved the spatula in her hand.
    “Runny,” Rhea answered.
    “Eww,” Tasha lifted her lip. “That reminds me of snot.”
    I laughed.
    “Good tasting snot. You should try it,” I shot back, going to the coffee pot for my morning dose of caffeine. “I gotta go to the office before we leave. Do you want to come with me, or do you want to stay here?”
    She pursed her lips.
    “Leave for where?” she wondered.
    “The wedding,” I replied.
    Her mouth dropped into an O.
    “Oh yeah,” she hesitated. “I forgot.”
    I nodded. “Come or stay?”
    “I’ll go,” she whispered, turning back to the bacon. “But I don’t have anything to wear this weekend.”
    “I can go get you something!” Rhea exclaimed with excitement.
    Tasha turned toward Rhea.
    “I can do it,” she hedged. “It’s hard to find something that fits completely without trying it on.”
    “We’ll run by the mall on the way home,” I offered.
    I lived in Uncertain, but my main office was in Longview, about an hour away.
    She turned her beautiful brown eyes up to me once again and smiled.
    “I think you’ll regret that,” she teased.
    I shrugged. “I have two sisters. How much worse could you be?”
    Way…way worse.
    Something I found out three hours later.
    Mostly because she made me sit in the dressing room with her while she tried on things because I was ‘intimidating.’
    Whatever.
    “How about this one?” she turned.
    She was wearing a different bra today, so each time she took off her top, I could make out the play of metal through the thin barrier.
    Not to mention I could practically see her nipples.
    The bra wasn’t thick enough to hide those beauties.
    My dick was uncomfortably hard, and I could’ve sworn she was doing it on purpose.
    My eyes strained to stay on just what she was wearing, and not stray to her breasts or too short skirt.
    I’d managed to hold on to some semblance of control, too.
    I was doing so well.
    “It’s better than the last,” I told her honestly.
    She looked at me over her shoulder, then sighed before ripping the dress off.
    It fell to her feet in a flutter of gauzy material, and I blinked as I got a load of her ass.
    The panties weren’t a thong. They were the type that barely covers the ass, but I couldn’t tell you what they were called.
    But when she bent forward to reach for yet another dress, I was done.
    Standing up, I bent over her and gathered the two dresses that I liked most.
    I knew they’d fit.
    Everything she’d tried on, had.
    So I picked up her shorts and shirt from the floor, tossed them at her, and left before she could protest.
    “I’m going to go pay for these,” I said. “I’ll meet you out front.”
    Without another word, I left.
    Once I’d paid for the purchases, I walked outside and took a seat next to the old man that was currently occupying the bench right beside the front doors.
    “How’s it going?” I mumbled.
    I hadn’t really expected him to answer.
    It was more of a polite gesture on my part than wanting an actual conversation with him.
    But he answered, surprising me.
    “Be better if my wife didn’t think I was made of money,” he grumbled.
    I snorted as I tried to conceal my laugh.
    “My