Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Okay. I will.” His voice is quiet.
“Good.” I pat his shoulder and stand up as the people in front of us take a step—actually, more like a half-step—forward.
Progress is progress.
Glancing at the gas station across the street, I notice a woman with a dark ponytail, in yoga pants and a form-fitting hoodie filling up her car. A guy with a mustache is at the next pump over, leering at her as she ignores him, studying the rising numbers on the display. Another guy in a Mustang drives past, watching her so intently that he goes through the red light.
She looks familiar, but I can’t place why.
In another life, I’d have run across the street to chat her up. It wouldn’t have taken much. I’d have told a few jokes, worked my charm, and walked away with her number. One, maybe two nights later, she’d be under me, screaming my name and clawing the hell out of my back with her nails.
But things are different, now…
The woman behind me clears her throat and I realize that the line has taken another single step forward. I pull Jace along with me and he starts to play with the old free newspaper dispensers outside the shop’s door. “Sorry.”
Then I look back at the beauty across the street. She’s heading inside to pay for her gas, all male eyes on her, and that feeling of familiarity grows. It’s her walk. Long, fast strides. Purposeful. Driven.
Holy shit. Is that Tenley?
It is. I can tell by the stay away from me while I accomplish my goals scowl on her face.
I can’t stop staring, even after she goes inside. Probably because I have never seen her outside the office or in anything other than those frilly, high-necked blouses. It’s like when you’re in high school and you accidentally see your teacher in the supermarket and realize they actually have a life outside of the classroom. It opens up a whole new world, and so many questions. You see them in an entirely different light and it’s never the same again.
She comes a minute later, sipping on a giant red slushie.
Shit. Why didn’t I suggest slushies to Jace? We’d be in and out by now and I could’ve run into Tenley, and…
Actually, let’s be real—she would’ve growled at me and told me to get the hell away from her.
But I have to admit, she looks damned good in that outfit; it’s hugging that tight body she always tries to hide under thick fabrics and bland, neutral colors. She’s turning even more heads as she opens the door to her car, and part of me wants to storm over there and tear those losers new assholes.
Hell. Why do I care?
The woman behind me clears her throat again, and I take another step, so we’re almost through the door.
By the time I look back again, Tenley’s gone.
13
Stranger 7721: I got it in, 21 minutes under the wire!
I breathe a sigh of relief as I hit “send.” I’d almost let twenty-four hours pass without talking to Stranger88, and I can’t let that happen.
I’ve been so busy with this case that as much as I wish I could have a nice long conversation with him, our schedules haven’t been meshing. It’s been a message here, a message there… but no deep, all-night-long back-and-forths.
Unfortunately.
We have sixty days left.
As I’m thinking about him, I hear the elevator doors ding. Shocking since most people don’t start arriving until closer to nine. But it’s an even bigger shock when I look up and see Brooks walking off the elevator car.
To top it off, he doesn’t swagger past my office with his I’m better than you smirk. He actually stops and deigns to look in on me. “Hey.”
I put my phone aside and glance up at him before going back to my work. “Hey.”
“Good weekend?”
What part of us working together says that I’m open to casual chit-chat? That’s not what we do. It’s not what we’ve ever done.
“Our meeting’s not until nine,” I remind him.
There’s that smirk. I know what he’s thinking, There’s such a thing as tact, and you don’t have it. But he’s wrong. I am sure I could be lovely at small talk, if it mattered to me. But I don’t care about it. Where chatting with Stranger88 means something because it helps lift my spirits, the same cannot be said for chatting with Brooks.
Meaningless small talk is a waste of time, and I have things to do. So many things, in fact, that his simply being here, smirking at me, is an obnoxious distraction.
I wave him off. “Please. Go.”
He doesn’t. Instead, he gives me a mock-surprised look. “You don’t want to discuss the Courtney Perry situation? Thought it was a pretty big deal. But okay…”
He starts to walk away, leaving me to wonder what the hell he’s talking about. Courtney Perry is our client. Of course I want to discuss her situation. But I thought I had everything with the case under control.