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)
After my accident, Roland, or Rosie—not to be confused with the girl Rosie I’d once dated— as we called him, another man in our squad, had suffered injuries that had seen him medically discharged as well.
It’d been something small and stupid—like my injuries as of right now—and he hadn’t handled it anywhere near as well as I had—and that was saying something since I hadn’t handled it well at all.
Now he was facing jail time because he’d gotten drunk off his ass and then had proceeded to beat the shit out of the cop that had tried to arrest him.
“Amanda, why don’t you go get us a bottle of the good stuff? Then leave.”
I snorted. That wasn’t very nice, but Amanda didn’t seem to care.
The moment that June had issued those orders, she’d jumped to her bidding.
But, as I had noticed when they were together earlier in the week working the bar, I knew that there were no hard feelings. Amanda and June had a true friendship. Just like I had with the guys in my squad. I knew that they’d always have my back, no matter what.
“What part of ‘I’m not good company’ did you not understand?” I muttered, my mood souring by the minute. Without waiting for a reply, I picked up my drink and downed what was left in the glass—which inevitably wasn’t much.
Dammit.
A bottle was plopped down in front of me, this time not scotch, but whiskey.
I didn’t even hesitate. I took the bottle, poured my glass up until it was about to spill over, and took a healthy sip.
The taste of whiskey was much different from scotch, but it burned just the same—and would do for now.
I’d probably get drunk faster, but since I didn’t have to work until the evening shift tomorrow, I’d be happy to drink what was provided.
Amanda and June pulled up a stool on either side of me, and neither one of them said a word.
That was good, right?
Chapter 9
I’m not the type of person you should put on speakerphone.
-T-shirt
June
My mind wouldn’t stop wandering to the man who had spent the entire night last night drinking, and then had walked out of there so steadily that had I not been drinking with him, I wouldn’t have known he was drunk.
The man could hold his liquor, that was for sure.
As a reluctant bartender, I should have seen the signs that he needed to be cut off.
He’d been quiet. Broody. But he’d been holding himself upright, and wasn’t causing a scene. He didn’t raise his voice.
Honestly, he was a model drunk. I wished all drunks were like him.
He hadn’t tried to feel me up. He hadn’t even looked at Amanda.
Hell, the only words I’d heard him say over the course of those four hours was ‘more, please.’
And, when he realized he was getting to the point that he needed to stop, he did.
It was all quite eerie, to be honest.
I swear, he was the most well-behaved drunk in Texas last night.
“You can go home now, June,” Coke said as he came into the office. “Thank you for staying late and helping me input all that info. That would’ve been a bitch for me with the hunt and peck routine I have going on.”
I grinned at my boss. “Anytime. Although, you could’ve given it to me about an hour and a half earlier, and we both would’ve been out of here on time.”
He flipped me off.
I giggled and gathered my belongings.
“Can I leave this here? Do you care?” I asked, gesturing to my bag that had an extra set of clothes in it. “After yesterday, I might need to make sure I always have a set here, just in case.”
Yesterday had been…enlightening.
I didn’t know that a car emitted so much liquid when it was crushed, but boy did I know now.
He grunted. “There’s a shelf in the bathroom. Feel free to leave whatever the fuck you want here…unless it’s food. I’m fairly sure I won’t stop myself from eating it if you leave food here. Unless it’s chick food.”
I gave him a dry look. “Do I look like I eat chick food?”
He gave me the once-over. “You look like you don’t eat at all, to be honest. I think my sixteen-year-old weighs more than you.”
I shrugged. “Good genes, I guess. I had a chili cheese dog and fries from the gas station for lunch. And I had a couple of Snickers bars. Not to mention I had a forty-four-ounce Dr. Pepper to wash it down with.”
It was so good I was considering having it all over again for dinner.
“If I did that, I’d have heartburn for eight hours and wouldn’t sleep through the night. Then I’d have to wake up the next morning at the ass crack of dawn and go run when all I’d want to do is take that extra hour to catch up on sleep.” He paused. “This getting old shit is for the birds.”