Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
I walk into Perk it Up. It’s not too busy for the time of day. I figure I’ll grab a coffee and a sandwich. I scan the menu on the board for their daily special. I always look at it but never order anything different. I’m a creature of habit here, going after a cold brew with sweet foam on the top and an Italian cream syrup, probably being the weirdest person possible with the pairing of a chicken salad sandwich on sourdough bread. My stomach grumbles just thinking about it.
“Hi, what can I get for you today?” the barista asks. Not sure why she does; we both know I’m a usual here.
“Hey, Steph, can I get my normal?” I pull my wallet from my bag, ready to pay for it.
“Of course. One day, we’ll get you to try the cranberry chicken salad.” I wrinkle my nose. Raisins and craisins do not belong in my salad along with chicken. No thanks.
“Maybe.” She rings me up, and I swipe my card as the two of us chat for a few minutes while everything is prepared, me thinking my day is finally turning around. The only better part would be if I got a call to know how Jolene’s surgery went. I pull my phone out even though I’m wearing my Apple Watch, which would notify me of a call or text, but maybe there’s an email. God, I’m obnoxious. If I were ever to get pregnant, have a child, and leave them with a babysitter who wasn’t my mother, could you even imagine the nut job I would be?
“Here’s your order.” I glance up from my phone for a second, grabbing my coffee and the to-go bag. Steph knows I’m not staying to eat today. I usually have my laptop bag on those days, and it’s not with me.
“Thanks. See you again soon.” I’m on a mission but am getting sidetracked by a work email. There are a couple that need a response, which means I’ll need to call Journey once I’m settled with my food outside.
I look up, knowing what will happen if I stare down at my phone while walking. It’s asking for a broken nose. Been there, done that. Well, almost. Let’s just say I had a black eye instead, and that was not fun. It wasn’t awesome to explain that I walked into my closed sliding glass door. I don’t know why I thought it was open. The only person home at the time was me.
My eyes are wide open, mouth wrapped around my straw as I take the first sip of sweet sugary goodness with an undertone of coffee. Sue me. This isn’t my first cup of the day. That one has to be strong. This one? Not so much. The door opens. I finish taking a sip of my drink right when I realize the person in front of me, who I thought was being a gentleman is doing what I least expect.
“Watch out,” I barely get out. I try to side-step as he does the same thing, but we get lost in the fray and slam into one another.
“Son of a bitch.” recognizing that voice, my eyes close, feeling the cold wetness soak through my clothes.
“Madden, I swear to all things holy, if you’re stalking me, we’re going to have problems by the name of a restraining order.” I take a step back, wearing most of my drink, pissed as hell because what a waste of time and money. Time is one thing; money is another. Not to mention the fact that my white cotton shirt is currently giving Madden a free show, literally. My nipples are pebbled from the cold drink, and my shirt is sheer without being wet, and the spilled coffee on the light-as-can-be cotton jersey material really doesn’t help.
“You really think highly of me, huh, Hendrix?” he asks, but he’s already grabbing the crushed plastic cup out of my hand, tossing it in the trash while pulling some napkins out of the holder. “Come on, I have a shirt in my truck you can wear.” That doesn’t stop him from licking his lips, eyes glancing from my eyes to my chest then back up again. Plus, the annoying ass of a man isn’t giving me an option as he wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me along the way.
EIGHT
Madden
“Madden, stop. I don’t need your stupid shirt. And maybe you aren’t a stalker, but come on now. It seems like every time we randomly meet, you’re wreaking havoc on my life.” She tries to put the brakes on as I walk her to my truck. Like I’m going to kidnap her. This woman is a damn trip.
“You going to walk around showing off your tits all day? Gotta admit, they’re sweet, I’m not sure you want them to be out in public too long.” I don’t look back, knowing if I do, I’ll be the one doing the looking. And judging by the bag she is holding tightly in one hand, it’ll be me she beats it with. I got a good look at her at the vet clinic: long hair brown mixed with some blonde, seductive eyes in the form of a deep chocolate color, lips that are full and soft. She’s a mind fuck in any way of the imagination. That doesn’t stop me from taking a look at her each chance I can. She's usually in a sports bra, leggings, and sneakers from her hike, and today is no different, except she’s wearing a shirt to cover her upper body.