Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“What if I like feeding you?” She tilts her head towards me, peeking at me through her lashes as Cole fills her tray with drinks. Her fair skin makes it easy to see her blush, and damn do I love making her do it. It’s not hard.
I got her to spend the day with me. I took her out on the gator and showed her around. I was curious about what she would think. Paisley has spent her life in the city. I might have money, but her world is another level. It isn’t only about money. Her family carries an impressive pedigree. They would lose their minds if they knew what I was up to. It is the opposite of what they hired me to do.
“Need to get back to it.” She gives me one of those shy smiles of hers before she lifts the tray up and saunters off. My eyes are glued to her. I fight the urge to physically follow her around table to table. Just so these assholes know she’s not available.
I grip the bar so that I don’t. I’ve been hovering over her since I locked my eyes on her. I’m not sure how much she notices.
“Fuck.” I jump from my seat when Paisley’s foot catches the leg of a chair that someone left pushed out. Her tray goes flying. Thankfully she doesn’t fall with it. The shot glasses hit the floor, shattering all over the place. “Hey.” I put my hand on her back. She turns toward me, her face flushed. This isn’t the kind of blush I enjoy seeing on her beautiful face.
A few people clap, pissing me off. I’d say something, but right now my focus is her.
“I got it,” I tell her. I cup her cheek when I see tears form in her eyes. Shit. There is no way I’ll survive her crying. The thought of her being sad is enough to kill me.
“I always make a mess,” she whispers, I think more to herself, but I catch the words. I sense they go a whole lot deeper than some broken shot glasses. Someone has said that shit to her.
“It’s no big deal.” I can’t stop myself. I lean in and brush a soft kiss against her lips. She lets out a small gasp. I pull back, knowing I can’t take it further right now. I wouldn’t be able to stop. “I’ll clean this up. Cole is already making them again.”
“Okay.” She licks her lips. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick.” I drop my hand and let her flee.
I place the big chunks of glass on the tray. The other girl serving tonight delivers the fresh drinks as Cole comes over with a broom and towel.
“I got it,” I hear him say as I glance toward the hallway that goes to the bathroom before I run my eyes across the bar. It’s a habit. They stop when they land on an empty chair.
Where the fuck did blue polo boy go?
I’ll fucking kill him.
12
PAISLEY
I rest my hand on the bathroom sink. How embarrassing. I thought I was getting better. I should have known. I’ve always been clumsy. I’m not sure it’s something you can fix. I’ve tried. My mom always acts like I do it on purpose, which I never understand. Who wants to make a fool of themselves? Then she said I did it for attention.
That had hit me hard. I even wondered if subconsciously I did. If there was one thing I didn’t have growing up, it was attention. The only time my parents showed any concern over me was when I passed out at school.
They didn’t have much of a choice but to show concern or they’d look bad. And they definitely couldn’t have people thinking our family wasn’t perfect. My little episode turned out to be not so little, and we found out I had diabetes. I swear my mother thinks I got that for attention too. It’s why I’ve spent most of my life trying to not be a bother to anyone.
I splash some water on my face, trying to calm myself down. I pat it dry with some paper towels. My fingers run over my lips, reminding me of the kiss Jackson had placed on them. I quickly fix my hair and am about to head back out when the door suddenly opens.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that it takes me a minute to register who opens the bathroom door. But once I do, a sinking feeling fills my gut. It’s the guy in the blue shirt that has been watching me all night. He’s made a few off-handed comments to me throughout the night, but I ignored them.
“Sorry, but this is the ladies’ room,” I say in hope to get him to leave. I know it’s wishful thinking. I can tell by the lustful expression on his face that he knows exactly what he is doing.