Cover Reveal~ The Beard Made Me Do It by Lani Lynn Vale
Title: The Beard Made Me Do ItSeries: The Dixie Wardens Rejects MC Series #5Author: Lani Lynn ValeGenre: MC RomanceRelease Date: June 28, 2017
Cover Mode: Jacob Wilson
Photographer: Furious Fotog

Heās only a friend.

āWhy the hell are you out here and not in your fucking room doing that?ā I asked my sixteen-year-old son, Linc.
Linc looked up from his homework, and shrugged.
The problem with Linc doing his homework out here meant that he had the TV blaring, his phone on some stupid Vine video, and his pencil tapping a million miles an hour while he hummed to some random song that only he could hear.
He was also nearly naked. Had been for the majority of his life.
He ignored me as if I hadnāt said a word.
āSeriously,ā I said to him. āWhat makes you think itās okay to sit here in your underwear with the fuckinā front window wide ass open? There are people in this neighborhood that Iād rather not egg our shit. Not to mention you donāt pay the fuckinā electric bill and itās cold as fuck out.ā
Linc snorted.
āTheyād have to be able to walk close to our cars, and since most of them are old geezers, I donāt see that happening.ā He countered. āWhatās got up your ass?ā
I grunted, walking to the kitchen to grab a beer. Itād been a long fucking day, and I had to go back to work and do it all over again tomorrow.
I was a welder for a pipeline, and my job was exhaustingly hard work that I fucking loved. I made a whack, and payed for my bills, but to do that I had to work long hours. Nearly eighty hours a week.
āSomeone called for you today. A woman.ā
āWhat was her name?ā I asked, scanning the contents of the refrigerator for something to eat. āDid you eat all the leftover pizza?ā
Linc and I had pizza a lot. Anything that was fast, and came out of a box, was our go-to menu item seeing as neither one of us really knew how to cook. Lunchables. Macaroni. Hamburger Helper when we were feeling adventurous.
āEllen?ā Linc guessed. āI wrote it down on the pad next to the phone.
The name āEllenā wasnāt common, but it was still impossible for a girl from my pastāalmost fourteen years ago to be exactāto come back and haunt me some two thousand odd miles away from where I first met her.
āWhat did she want?ā I asked. āAnd you never answered me on the pizza.ā
āThat was gone last night about three in the morning.ā Linc chuckled unrepentantly. āAnd I wrote it all down on the note.ā
I closed the fridge and moved across the small space to the counter next to the landline that I wasnāt sure why we still had, and stared at the pad of paper with two words on it.
Club party.
āCan I go?ā
I looked up to find Linc, the boy that was spitting image of me.
Six feet one, and likely to grow even more since the pediatrician said heād likely reach my height if not more. Jet black hair with a slight wave to it, exactly like mine.
Hell, he even had a beard, exactly like me. Though, his was much more trimmed and kempt due to the school he was attending informing him if it wasnāt done just so, heād have to shave it or leave the school.
Weād had to fight for the beard, so if he wanted to keep it, heād damn well follow their rules or Iād make him shave it off myself.
His body mass was the only thing he didnāt have yet that resembled me. He was much skinnier, and definitely on the verge of getting some bulk, just like I had been at seventeen. But he didnāt have it yet. He was still in that in between stage that showed the promise of what he might one day be.
Me, I was six foot four, two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle, and had a six pack that was derived from days and days of hard work and sweat on the pipeline. I had a beard that was on the verge of being too bushy, but Iād literally lost all desire to impress anyone a long fucking time ago.
I was me. I wasnāt going to change, even though some would like me to.
āIāll have to ask if itās kid friendlyā¦ā I laughed when my son gave me a face that clearly said what he thought about me saying ākid friendly.ā
My kid wasnāt a kid. He couldnāt be when he was raised by me.
Iād done my best, but Iād been more like a brother than a parent. We were seventeen years apart in age, and there wasnāt a day that went by that I did the whole parenting thing correctly.
He had to grow up faster than most. By the age of ten, I was leaving him at home for extended periods of time because Iād been switched to a different shift that equaled me not getting home from work until a little after nine oāclock.
By the age of twelve, he was spending almost the entire night alone every other day because my shifts were switched again.
By fifteen, we didnāt even pass each other for the entire day at times.
Now, at sixteen, I had a better paying position. One that equaled me working days, though they were long and just as tiringāif not more tiringāas my previous job. Being peoplesā boss was the pits. Dealing with peoplesā bullshit was even worse.
āYou took me to the last one.ā
I grinned. āThatās right. I did.ā
āI canāt believe youāre prospecting. Iām so fuckinā excited.ā
I just shook my head.
My kid rolled his eyes at me and got up, walking toward me with a paper in his hand. āRead this and make sure it looks good.ā
I grabbed the paper and read it, my heart tightening slightly when I read the words on the paper.
āYou think Iām a superhero?ā I asked quietly, my eyes flicking up to my sonās where he was leaning against the wall.
Linc looked at me, really looked at me, and nodded.
āYeah, dad. I think youāre a fucking superhero.ā He grated out. āOtherwise I wouldnāt be here right now, now would I? My paper was on someone who inspires me to be a better person. Thatās you, bitch.ā
I grabbed my man-child into a headlock and brought him in close to me, then pressed a kiss to the top of his head before taking him down to the ground and tickling him like I used to do when he was six.
āGet out of here, kid. Let me read. You get your shit picked up outside or itāll get stolen.ā
My kid left, luckily putting pants on before he walked outside to pick up his football gear, leaving me to read a paper that was enough to bring a grown man to tears.
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