Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 17761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
The leather cushion of the bar stool slightly gave way with a sigh under my weight. I sat there silently, my fingers trembling as I brushed a damp strand of hair from my face and then tucked it behind my ear.
A man emerged from the back room, and I couldn't help but instantly notice his presence. He was incredibly tall and broad-shouldered, and the way he moved was with a predatory grace that was both intimidating and… curious.
His dark hair was tousled in a way that suggested he ran his hands through the strands continuously. And his eyes—his eyes were a piercing blue shade and so intense that I realized I was holding my breath.
And when those eyes focused on me, it was like he could see right through me.
He stopped directly in front of me, only the polished wooden bar top separating us. “What can I get you?” he asked, his voice a deep tenor that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. He threw a white dish towel over his shoulder, and I couldn’t help but see how his white shirt with the little logo of the bar’s name above his left pec stretched across his muscular chest.
I averted my gaze, focusing on the surface of the counter for a second before I dug into my pocket. I pulled out the two crumpled bills and coins I’d grabbed before my escape.
This is all I have to my name.
“Just... whatever this can get me,” I mumbled, sliding the pitiful offering toward him. “And a glass of water, please.”
He glanced at the money, then back at me, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he scooped up the change and turned away.
I exhaled and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stave off the lingering cold and the overwhelming sense of despair that threatened to consume me.
It was about ten minutes later when he returned, placing a plate in front of me. A cheeseburger loaded with toppings, thick-cut fries, a dill pickle spear, and a hot cup of coffee, along with a glass of water. I glanced up at him, shocked, because I knew what I’d given him couldn't possibly cover the cost of this meal.
I opened my mouth to say just that, but he disappeared into the back room again, only to return a moment later with a white T-shirt.
He set it on the counter and slid it toward me. “The meal is the house special,” he said simply. “The shirt is because no one wants to eat in water-drenched clothes.”
I knew I stared at him with a surprised expression on my face. “I... I know what I gave you can’t pay for this,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned in closer, bracing his forearms on the counter, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch once more. “Don’t worry about that. Eat.”
There was an authority in his tone that brooked no argument, and despite my reservations, I nodded, looking at the plate of food again. “Thank you,” I murmured as I lifted the mug to my lips. The rich aroma of the coffee enveloped me, and the first sip sent a comforting warmth through my chest.
At that moment—even though that first sip was probably reheated coffee from an earlier pot—I felt like things weren’t so bad. Crazy how such a little thing that everyone takes for granted made me feel like I won the lottery.
When I felt him still standing in front of me, I dared to meet his gaze once more. He studied me for a long moment before offering a curt nod and a lopsided grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but one I still felt was genuine.
“Name’s Ash Castor,” he said, extending a hand.
I swallowed my second mouthful of coffee and set the mug down. “Evie,” I replied, slipping my hand into his. His grip was firm, his skin warm against my chilled fingers.
I didn’t know what he saw in my face or how he read my situation so clearly, but his smile faded, and this seriousness covered his brutally handsome face enough that I sucked in a sharp breath.
He held my stare for so long I felt the weight of it.
“You're safe here, Evie,” Ash said, his voice softening just a fraction, but there was no hiding the hardness in it. The sincerity. “Whatever you’re running from, whoever is scaring the hell—” He stayed silent for a second, letting those words sink in. “No one's going to hurt you.”
The power in his statement brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes, but this time, they were born of immense gratitude rather than despair.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to smile and believe that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as shitty as they seemed.