Punishing Me (Shaft on Tour #6) Read Online Free Page B

entertaining as hell to watch.
    Until
she catches me laughing and hits me with the closest, hard object…
    Which
is usually a wooden spoon…
    Which
hurts like a motherfucker.
    This
may or may not be the reason why those evil wooden bastards have begun to
disappear. Though, I’ll never own up to that shit. I have learned it is smart
to fear the women in tiny packages, and Rae is no exception. She may need a stepladder
and a safety net to bash my skull in, but I’ll bet money she has the nearest
hardware store on speed dial.
    “I
should’ve never let things go as far as they have, and you know it.” The bus
comes to a stop on its reserved concrete turn around spot. Jazzie squeals the
second the brakes let off and the door swings open. “He should have been told
immediately when the Doc first mentioned there was an issue. Now, it’s way
beyond a simple conversation.”
    “I
refuse to ruin this week. With Jared quitting, and the media shit storm Ireland
has dumped in their laps, Henry needs to relax,” she counters, as we make our
way down the porch steps and into the yard. “I’ll tell him everything when the
time is right.”
    “Sure
thing,” I say with a grin, “but, you’re gonna owe me.”
    “What
the hell are you waitin’ for, Jazz? The welcome party is supposed to rush the
bus!” Hunter shouts, leaping off the steps and onto the concrete. “Get over
here, Squirt, give me some love.”
    Hunter
barely has time to drop his bag before the tiny diva launches herself into his
arms and takes him straight to his ass. “Hey,” he breathes, wrapping her up
tight and dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “I was wonderin’ where my
welcome party was.”
    The
kid goes into a recap of every single detail Hunter has missed in the two weeks
it’s been since we flew out to Minneapolis for the weekend to see one of the
few small venue acoustic sets the band did for the tour. Most of which I’m sure
he has heard a hundred times during their Skype calls every day, but he hangs
on to every word she says.
    Me
not so much.
    My
eyes are glued to the woman struggling with her bags. Neon green Beats on her
ears and a fuck off and die attitude written all over her face; Ireland is far
from the girl I was paired up with while serving out my court ordered community
service. Although I haven’t had much interaction with her since she joined the
band a few months back, it doesn’t take much to see that she’s no longer the
sweet, shy girl I used to shed my virgin status.
    I
was a shit. I can admit that, but what seventeen-year-old boy wasn’t? I was
also honest. What the hell would she have had to gain by being with me? She had
a perfect life where there was no place for some punk kid from the wrong side
of the tracks. I was the perfect, dirty little secret for her taste of
rebellion. I knew the score. We both gave to each other, we both took, in the
end I walked away because I knew it was what needed to be done.
    “How’s
it hangin’, fucker?” Hunter asks, slapping me on the back and taking my focus
off Ireland. “Brought you a present.”
    “Thanks,”
I reply, flipping him off. “Not sure you can top the golf ball size anal beads
you sent last month, or the giant stuffed crab that ended up in my bed,” I
huff, glaring at Jasmine when she giggles. Turning my gaze back to Hunter, I
shake my head. “You bribed her to torture me with stuffed animals. That’s
pretty shady.”
    Hunter
shrugs, a proud smile spreading across his face. Handing her off to Chase, he
nudges me in the ribs with his elbow. “A box of cookie batter dipped double
stuffed Oreos will get me just about anything with that kid. Besides, she
thought it was funny too. Said you screamed like a little girl,” Hunter laughs,
reaching out to bump her fist.
    Nodding
my head, I can’t argue with that. “At least she shared those with me,” I nod,
my mouth damn near watering at the thought of those little pieces of cream
filled heaven.
    What
can I