Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
He heard, “You could’ve asked,” as he jogged up the steps. He could’ve but whatever neither of them drank, he could drop off at the Blue Avengers church. It wouldn’t go to waste.
His three-story townhouse wasn’t huge or fancy but it was perfect for him. The ground level had a garage big enough for both his Hellcat and Harley, plus a combination laundry room and storage area. The first floor included the main living space: a full kitchen, a large living room, a half bath and an office. The top floor consisted of his bedroom with an ensuite bathroom, a spare bedroom and full bathroom in the hallway.
He dropped her bag off in his room and did a quick double-check to make sure everything was in its place before rushing back downstairs.
He found her leaning against the counter in the kitchen, fisting a Twisted Tea.
She lifted it when she saw him. “I never had this. It’s good. It would be smart for The Pit to sell premade drinks like these since Mutt’s the worst when it comes to mixing anything.”
“Tell me about it. The only safe thing to drink there is beer, soda or water.”
“Another reason business has dropped. Super friendly manager—”
“Cookie’s still it, right?”
“Officially she’s still the assistant manager, when she shows up. Then you have the lovely head asshole Saint and the rest of the village idiots running the insane asylum.”
“Don’t forget the new, highly-skilled line-up of dancers,” he joked.
She snorted softly, then took another sip of the alcohol. “Yes, if you like a damp dish rag swinging around a pole. Either they look bored or annoyed when doing their routines. I tried to help them…” She sighed and took a long pull on her drink.
“Like Mel did when she was manager,” he concluded.
“Yes, I tried to pay it forward, but found myself banging my head against the wall, so I gave up.”
He moved around her, opening up cabinets and dragging out the stuff to set the table. Since he usually ate alone, he rarely sat in the kitchen and preferred to eat on the couch in front of his large screen TV. Considered a bad habit by his mother, it was one he wasn’t willing to break.
“When I grabbed my drink, I noticed a huge bowl of sliced strawberries.”
“That’s dessert.”
She stared at him with her head tipped to the side. “Just sliced strawberries?”
“Whipped cream, too.”
She lifted her eyebrows in question.
“It’s for later,” he hinted.
“Oh?”
“Later,” he repeated more firmly.
Her smile turned sly. “Then, good thing I love strawberries and I’m not allergic to them.”
Good thing. But, fuck, he should’ve asked her that first, too. That would’ve put a damper on his plans if she needed an EpiPen during sex.
Setting down her Twisted Tea, she helped him set the table and serve the food. When they sat down, she again inhaled deeply. “Damn, that’s enough to give a hungry woman an orgasm.” She mixed some of the shredded beef with the rice and forked it into her mouth, her eyes slowly closing as she chewed.
“It’s awesome.”
Her eyes opened after she swallowed. “It sure is. Damn. I thought you didn’t cook?”
“I don’t.”
She put a forkful of shredded beef into her mouth and her eyes practically rolled back in her head. Great job, Mom.
“What restaurant did you get this from? I need to eat there again.”
He did his best to keep a straight face. “It’s called Casa de Alvarez.”
“Is that around here?” She frowned. “Hold on... Your last name is Alvarez...”
“Beautiful and smart, too.” He shoved a slice of fried plantain in his mouth. Perfection. And one of his favorite side dishes. “My parents immigrated here from Venezuela and my mother still enjoys making the traditional dishes.”
She raised a slice of plantain stabbed on the end of her fork into the air. “My compliments to the chef.”
“I’ll pass them along.” He just wouldn’t be specific on where those compliments came from.
“How is it I don’t know your first name?”
“Just like I don’t know your real name,” he countered. He took a sip of his beer. “Antonio.”
“Antonio Alvarez,” she rolled around in her mouth. “Should I call you Tony instead of Rez since we’ve swapped some bodily fluids? I figure that calls for first names.”
“Everyone who knows me well calls me Rez.”
“How about Tony?”
“No.”
She glanced up from her plate. “No what?”
“That name’s reserved for my mother. That’s if she’s not using my full name. If I haven’t pissed her off, I’m Tony. If I’ve annoyed or disappointed her, it’s Antonio.”
She laughed. “Of course. Okay then, I won’t call you Tony since I really don’t want to remind you of your mother. That might put a kink in things. And I’m not talking a good kink.”
“I prefer Rez.”
“No.” She placed a long, painted fingernail to her lips as she made a show of thinking. “Tonio.”