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I’m the oldest at forty-three, Bay’s next at thirty-nine, Cody’s thirty-seven, Granger two years younger than him, Huck at thirty-four, Penn thirty-two, and Teddy the baby at thirty.
“No, she couldn’t,” I say angrily. “She can do whatever the fuck she wants, she can kiss, fuck, suck whoever she wants. She’s legal, single, and beautiful, what’s to stop her?” Bay says. “No, she fucking can’t because she’s mine,” I roar.
For a year I’ve stalked her every morning, I’ve sat in that fucking coffee shop while she quietly worked, then gone back again to check if she was there every night, just to protect the woman that apparently I’ve decided is my property. Bonnie is mine. A sense of overwhelming rightness settles inside my chest, that’s immediately followed by a growing sense of anger. Today, my woman was flirting with another guy. He touched her and asked her for her number, he asked her out.
“Obviously this morning I didn’t make myself clear. I want you, Bonnie, and from the way you’re grinding your little wet pussy against me, I know you want me too. I don’t share, baby girl. I’m a possessive, unreasonable, jealous mother fucker, and the moment you kissed me back you became mine.”
“You’re mine now,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. “Mine to kiss.” his teeth find the sensitive hollow where my neck meets my shoulder and sink down into the flesh. “Mine to touch,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to the spot
he just bit. “Mine to own.” Lifting his face, he presses his lips to mine again, kissing me hard and fast, before pulling back and looking at me with a smoldering intensity that makes heat gush between my legs where his groin is pressed hard against mine.
“What the hell was that?” I demand. “Oh, you’re gonna get it,” Bay crows, shaking his head. “Beau is gonna lose his mind if you go on a date with that dude.”
I’m barreling towards happily ever after with this woman, and I can’t even call her to tell her.
“What are your intentions towards my daughter?” he asks. “I plan to marry her,” I tell him honestly. His mouth falls open and he stares at me, obviously shocked, then he starts to laugh. “Well good luck with that,” he chuckles, opening the door to the house and stepping back inside.
“I am not yours, Beau, I’m not your baby girl, or your honey or whatever. I’m the girl that serves your coffee, that’s all.”
“So that big guy at the coffee shop?” Dan asks. “What about him?” I ask dismissively.
“You sure he’s not your boyfriend?” “No, he’s not, but what makes you ask that?” I ask carefully. “Well because he just barged into the restaurant, he’s coming this way and he looks seriously pissed.”

