Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
She snorted. “That was the only thing that was non-negotiable?”
I shrugged. “I can’t make them do something. I can give them a ticket for not doing it, though.”
She snickered, then took a pull of her tea from the straw.
I’d never wanted to be a straw more in my life than I did right then.
With those lips of hers wrapped around the large red piece of plastic, I wondered what they would feel like wrapped around my dick.
I squirmed in my chair and tried to get my errant thoughts under control.
“How much time left do you have on your lunch break?” she questioned, unaware of just how, exactly, she was affecting me.
I leaned back in my chair, stuffed from the most delicious tacos I’d ever eaten, and let my leg stretch out in front of me.
My foot brushed her chair, where her feet were resting on the rails, and she jumped.
But she didn’t pull away, and I didn’t, either.
“Another twenty minutes or so,” I paused. “Why? What’s up?”
She shifted, and the hair that’d been resting behind her ear fell loose.
It took everything I had in me not to reach across the table and slide it behind her ear again.
I think she sensed that, too, because she smiled at me.
“If I see the touch coming, sometimes it’s better.” She told me. “You can do it.”
I leaned forward and hooked the hair around my finger, then pushed it back until it rested behind her ear once more.
I was right.
Her hair was like silk.
Soft and smooth, like nothing I’d ever felt before.
Then my mind finally caught on to what she said before that. If I see the touch coming, sometimes it’s better.
How was her distaste at being touched now compared to before—before me? Was it better? Was it worse? Was she indifferent to my touch?
I wanted to ask her a million questions.
But, before I could question her further, the mic at my shoulder started to blare.
“Burglary in progress at…”
“I gotta go,” I said reluctantly, then winked.
Moments later, I was gone.
But, I kept kicking myself as I walked out the door because for some reason I felt serious disquiet at knowing she had a problem that I couldn’t fix. That she flinched each time I touched her, even if it was only with the sole of my boot.
I’d probably scare the absolute shit out of her if I ever initiated anything more than a brush of our hands.
Chapter 8
Should I take it as a compliment that someone said I was fragile like a bomb and not like a flower?
-Text from June to Johnny
Johnny
Tiny wasn’t tiny.
In fact, Tiny was so far from tiny that it was comical.
I offered the big man my hand, and he looked down at me with a critical eye. “Your name is Johnny.”
I nodded.
“What’s your middle name?”
I grinned. “Not Cash. It’s Mitchell. After one of my dad’s friends who died overseas while they were deployed.”
Tiny’s eyes narrowed.
“You say you were Army?”
I curled my lip into a small smile. “Yeah.”
He grunted. “Good. Wouldn’t want to hate you based on your lack of manliness.”
I found myself grinning.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
I looked at the rows of liquor on the wall behind his head and gestured to the one in the middle. “Scotch. Black label.”
He grunted, then reached for a glass underneath the bar and turned for the liquor bottle.
While he was busy doing that, I allowed my eyes to roam the bar, immediately halting on a familiar blonde in jeans and work boots.
My glass was set down in front of me with a clunk, and I turned back to find Tiny staring at me with anger in his eyes.
He looked at me like I was committing a sin.
“Don’t.”
I looked over at him with surprise evident in my eyes.
“Don’t? Why?” I pushed.
Tiny’s eyes were hard. “That girl has gone through more shit than you’ve likely even heard about in your life. She doesn’t need a straight-laced cop that’s going to look at her like a criminal when he hears about the things she’s done.”
“But she’s done things,” I clarified.
“Yeah. But so would a dog that was starving…if you catch my drift.” He gave me a knowing look.
My stomach sank. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”
“That girl? She’s good as gold. She’s loyal. She’s beautiful. Smart and funny. But it’s hard for men to break in there with her. She’s been burned by every single man she’s met in her life but two—me and her pops, Tennessee. Trust me when I say, don’t go there unless you’re ready to stay there.”
With that parting shot, Tiny stormed off, leaving me reeling.
I hated that she’d been burned by men. Men who should have been taking care of her and not leaving her to struggle.
Even more than I cared to admit, really.
I took a drink of my scotch and winced.