Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
He pulls into traffic on the main street in Thompson Ridge, the town next to Sherman, and I wonder if anyone will recognize me. I curl my body away from the door as Davis slides his hand behind my neck and gives me a squeeze.
“You okay, baby?”
“Yes, just been a heck of a couple days.”
“I know. What can I do to help?” He says it in hardly more than a grunt but there’s a sweetness in every word that makes me swoon.
I shrug on a marginal smile as he darts his hazel eyes to me, then back to the road. “You look so fucking beautiful I might just pull into the Holiday Inn and demolish that little hot pink cock sleeve of yours twenty different ways. Because my dick is perma-hard with you around, baby. That dress…” He cocks an eyebrow on a playful mmm-mmm-mmm sound. “So, tell me about this red thing. Everything you had with you to wear was red. You said that’s the only color you wear? You love red?”
“I hate red.” I take a breath as he rubs the muscles on my neck with one hand and palms the wheel around a turn with the other. “My family is a little strange. My mama had me out of wedlock and they have some strange ideas. I’m sort of…you know, the scarlet letter? Only, I’ve only worn red my whole life because, spawn of sin and all.”
“Epic bullshit.” His jaw sets and a vein in his temple stands out. “When we get home, you’re ordering every fucking piece of clothing you want from wherever you want but with one exception.”
“A budget?” I giggle and he shakes his head.
“No fucking budget and no fucking red.”
I smile, my stomach growling again, but it’s not just because I’m looking forward to a yummy dinner. What’s really yum, is him. Sitting next to me. In a suit. And a tie. Mountain Marin has landed herself the hottest mountain man in North Carolina.
It’s so easy being around him. I feel so comfortable being me. During our walk to the house, he asked me more about myself and I kept it vague. Even my name. Marin Octavia I told him. I left off the Baron because most people in this part of North Carolina know of him. Owning a four-generation tobacco farm is a pretty big deal down here. “What happened to Stevie, can I ask?”
Davis stiffens and shakes his head. “You can ask anything anytime, remember?” he growls. “But, let’s leave that for another day. It’s a hard tell.”
“Of course,” I say. “Sorry.”
“Baby, stop apologizing. You never need to apologize to me. Never.” He slows the truck at a light, turning to look down at my feet then trailing his gaze to my face, leaving a flurry of gooseflesh behind. “But I look after him. Day to day and his finances. Have since he got hurt.” The muscle in his jaw flexes and he rolls his head around, cracking his neck. “Seems like the least I can do.”
I rub my lips together, a new heaviness in the cab of the truck. Grandpa always said curiosity would kill the cat, and now here I am, being nosy as usual. I realize he hasn’t asked me much, though I wouldn’t mind a bit if he did. “Just so you know, you can ask me anything too.”
He darts his eyes back at me without turning his head as the light turns green and he accelerates. “You come from people that don’t understand you, don’t appreciate you. And worse, make you feel bad for being who you are. That’s about right?”
Nailed it! “Yeah. And about ten servings of start praying for your salvation before the Rapture, young lady!”
He runs his hand from my neck down my shoulder, tracing his knuckles down my arm until his rough, calloused fingers twine between mine, making my hand look like a child’s. “I’m in no rush, baby girl. I know what I want. The rest is just gravy. But, you hear this, I’ll listen to every story you want to tell me. Every thought and memory and dream and rant and joke. No matter how insignificant or silly you think it is, to me? It’s scripture.”
Something about the way he talks turns me into a happy, blubbering mess. I don’t even know what to say to that except that I want nothing more than to be his gravy and his scripture. I smooth my skirt over my thighs. “Are you sure Mastriano’s is okay? It’s so…” I lower my voice. “Expensive.”
Davis laughs, shaking his head as the restaurant comes into view ahead. “Money isn’t a problem, baby girl. You hear me? When we get there, you order whatever you want. No fucking around with chicken breasts and a side salad, alright? We’re talking lobster. Filet mignon. Appetizers, too. All of them. Only the best for you.”