Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Why am I still thinking about this? Shaking my head I force myself to get out of my feelings. I got to get over this crap.
“So, thanks for the offer but I got it from here.”
He removes his hand and takes a step back, his eyes not breaking contact as I shut the door. Locking it, I stand there a second and chew on my nail to make sure he leaves. Burning blue eyes of his seemed to blaze with surprise that I didn’t want him. A devious smile spreads across my face, I find that a little funny. He probably doesn’t get turned down around these parts. He’s in a club and has the bad boy reputation. Any girl would think they were lucky he picked them.
Rolling my eyes, I head back up the steps, remembering how I felt when he chose me at the rally. Shit, I’m still lost in the past. I thought I was going to move on from this. Running my hands down my face, I groan loudly. I’m here for work, to get my name out there and maybe start a relationship later down the road. Ugh, why do I have to know the boss? This makes this whole situation awkward. Correction, knowing the boss would be a simple awkwardness, but because I slept with him and my brother and father brutally kicked his ass makes this whole situation a shit show.
Two hours later, I have the place cleaner, airing out with opened windows, and my stuff unpacked. Not that I had a lot of stuff to begin with, but it’s all put away. This is probably the cleanest it will be because I’m kind of a slob. Tossing the dirty rag on the counter, I hear the fridge kick on. My parched mouth internally screams for a cold drink. Opening it, I find it’s completely empty. Shutting it, I make a mental note to get a few things, but where is a grocery store around here? I don’t remember seeing one coming into town, but I was pretty focused on finding the garage rather than a store.
Walking across the squeaky floor, I spread the blinds open with my fingers and look out the window up the street, curious if there’s a nearby market, I can’t tell from where I’m standing but I bet there’s one farther up the road. Looking to the right of my building there’s a gas station across the street, it looks like a functional operating one compared to the one I’m living in. Hmm, I can just run over there and get a couple things for now. Pushing away from the window, I reach in my back pocket, my fingertips feel the wad of cash I have rolled up along with my ID. I always keep it in my back pocket or bra, I never carry a purse. I’d just end up leaving it somewhere and I’ve never come across one that I felt like I had to have hanging over my shoulder every time I leave the house.
Skipping down the dark staircase, I walk into the gas station part of the building and hear low rumbles of laughter. The chuckles ease and the sound of boots get louder until a tall brooding biker stands in front of me. His hair half shaven on one side with a tribal tattoo inked into the scalp. His left eye stands out more than anything on him with its cloudy lining hazing the iris, it looks like he has cataracts or had an eye injury, the other eye is a beautiful green though.
His nose scrunches as if he’s sickened by the look of me, his hand tightly clutching a beer.
My eyes fall to his leather cut, catching his name.
Bugs.
I’ve seen worse names for bikers. He must be one of the members of Thane’s club.
“You must be the chick that is detailing the bikes now,” he states rather than asks, a big grin pulling his lips into a miscreant smile.
I force my chin upward in an attempt of confidence and nod.
“Yeah, just got here.” Offering a simple smile in return, hoping he’s not going to cause any trouble but the feeling in my gut is saying something else.
“Mm, come ‘ere.” He motions me to follow him, waving the hand with the beer toward the garage area.
Curious as to what he wants to show me, I follow. Not because I’m an idiot. I’m on guard and will nail him in the nuts if he tries anything just before I make him eat that bottle of shitty beer.
Opening the door, he steps inside, lights flickering on that are so bright it has me blinking a few times. There’s plastic all over the walls and floors, a flow system to suck the paint out of the small space, a large air compressor next to it, and a locker along the back wall that has a mask and spray painting tools like Bondo, grinder, self-etching primer.