Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 91438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Be careful,” he said.
I shrugged. “Got nothing left to lose, friend. Careful’s not in my repertoire.”
I’d lost everything thirty years ago…and even now with my kids half understanding what I’d had to do, it still wasn’t enough to undo thirty years of damage and probably never would be.
Chapter 7
Is that your flashlight or are you happy to see me? Oh, that’s really your flashlight? Bummer.
-Coffee Cup
Sawyer
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” I said, plopping down in the seat across from Silas.
He winked.
“Was here first, girlie,” he mumbled, leaning back against the booth he was in and taking a sip of his beer.
He was right.
I’d seen him the moment I’d crossed the threshold.
“What are you doing all the way out here?” I asked softly.
We were nearly an hour away from our hometown, in a place called Longview.
I knew why I’d come here. I just didn’t know why he had.
“I think it’s a little delicate for your ears,” he chuckled, taking another drink of his beer.
My face flamed as I realized just why.
He was looking for a hookup.
At a bar that was not in his hometown.
Shit!
“Ahhh,” I said, stumbling over something to say and coming up empty.
He grinned, and my nipples started to harden.
“That’s why I’m here, too. Figured I had a better chance with a man that didn’t know my life story,” I murmured embarrassingly.
That, and I just wanted to feel something.
After a little bit of experimentation, I realized that alcohol just made me feel even worse about myself.
Made me relive the nightmares over and over until my drunkenness wore off.
This was the next logical step. Getting lost in someone’s body for a couple of hours.
I was pretty enough.
And my outfit was perfect.
Black five-inch heels. Short skirt. Low cut top.
It was the exact outfit that women wore when they wanted to pick up a man.
When he didn’t say anything, I took that as my cue to leave.
“Anyway…good luck,” I said stupidly.
Jesus, but the man didn’t need luck.
Every female eye in the room was aware of Silas.
He was just that hot.
I could feel his eyes on me as I walked away, could practically feel his phantom hands running up the outsides of my thighs to smooth over my ass.
Sweet baby Jesus.
I went straight to the bar and ordered a Jack Daniel’s on the rocks.
I didn’t have time to pussy foot around. If I was going to have the nerve to go home with a man, it’d have to be with a little liquid courage.
The bartender froze when he looked at me, a smile appearing on his face.
I already felt dirty.
So I drank to forget and hoped it’d work like it was supposed to.
After my second drink, I was finally loose enough to venture out onto the dance floor.
There weren’t many dancing, but my devious mind was set on dancing…mainly because the dance floor was directly across from the booth that Silas hadn’t moved from.
Not that he needed to move.
There’s been a plethora of women stopping by his table.
Some had the courage to sit.
Some only walked past and waved.
He never waved back, eyes forward.
The ones that had the courage to sit, he spoke to, but only for a short time.
He was intimidating as hell, which I’m sure they realized after sitting for only a short time.
I weaved in and out of the tables on my way to the dance floor, very aware that I had the attention of many men.
Not the attention of the man I wanted, though.
But we’d just have to see about that.
***
Silas
I’m not a person known for his good decisions.
I knew I shouldn’t take her.
Knew it was bad on way too many levels.
Yet my dick and my mind were in complete agreement.
And I was a big believer in fate.
We’d both been here looking for the same thing.
An hour away from our normal lives.
She’s a baby.
She’s younger than your kids.
She was younger than my kids…but she was older, too.
She had eight years of experience on the inside, and if there was one thing I knew, it was that prison changed you.
Made you grow up even when you didn’t want to.
It was either live or die. There was no surviving when you had to watch your back twenty-four hours a day, three-hundred-sixty-five days a year.
I watched as she danced to a song that I hadn’t heard in years.
She moved her hips enticingly, swaying from side to side, sliding her hands into her hair.
The men in the room were captivated.
But they wouldn’t have her.
I would.
Downing the rest of my beer, I moved out of the booth, aware of everyone’s eyes in the room moving to me.
A man that was set to make his move on Sawyer froze in his spot just by a simple glare from me in his direction.
He turned and moved away, the thought of trying for Sawyer dying an agonizing death once he looked into my eyes.
I moved up behind her just as the next song made its way in, and I smiled.
It was perfect.
Mostly because she stopped dancing and turned, seeing me standing there.
Her eyes widened, and she licked her lips.
I walked forward, coming to a stop only inches away from her face.
“You’re sure about this?” I asked softly.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“You know who I am?” I asked.
She nodded. “I do.”
“You know what I want?” I continued.
She nodded again. “Yeah.”
“I don’t do relationships. And whatever this is, it’s not going to be hearts and flowers. I don’t have time for that,” he said again.
She shrugged. “I don’t have time for hearts and flowers anyway. It’s just not for me.”
I didn’t bother to contradict her.
She deserved the hearts and flowers. But I was a selfish prick.
It was wrong on so many levels that I couldn’t count the ways…but my dick didn’t seem to care.
“Your car or mine?” She asked as we walked past the front door.
I snorted.
There was no way I was squeezing into that tin can she called a car.
I’d seen her car.
It was the size of a shopping cart…or at least that was what it looked like.
It was a 1957 Volkswagen Beetle in a putrid shade of green.