Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
“Whelp, my job here is done. I made chicken Alfredo with a side of broccoli. There’s enough to feed Reese in there too. Don’t let him hoard it all. It’s made from scratch and one of his favorites. Though, I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you around as long as Wolf doesn’t screw things up.” She gives me a side hug, Wolf a pat to the cheek, and then she’s off as fast she came.
“You don’t really have to show me around, I promise,” I offer him an out now that his mom is gone.
“I have tomorrow off. Well, I have most days off and only come in at night to work in the office while the other bartenders are here. I’ll show you the places that tourists don’t know about.” Wolf takes my empty glass, making me another one without asking or once again taking a payment.
“I’d like that.” My voice comes out in a dreamy tone. I swear this man is making me act like a teenager.
“Good, sit here, drink your Sex on the Beach. I’m going to do another check around the bar, then it’s my turn to hear everything about you.” The huskiness in his tone makes me want to spill my guts to him easily, not that there’s much to say, but still, if I’m not careful, I’ll tell him more than he’d ever want to hear.
“Okay.” This time, I don’t suck down my drink as fast as the one earlier. I take my time, enjoying the place and watching Wolf in his element.
Three
Wolf
It’s well past closing time. Thankfully, it’s one of those nights we close at ten o’clock and not at two in the morning like on our busier nights. Sometimes I dread those when we’re short staffed and I have to step in to help. Christ, it makes me feel every bit of my thirty-three-year-old self. What shocked me the most tonight was Reese staying the entire time. That could be because we shared the meal my mom brought me, something she does at least twice a week, if not more. Though, Sundays are usually our day to catch up with either dinner out together or at one of our houses.
The only time she attempted to leave was when I did a last call. She dug through her purse, pulled out a few twenty-dollar bills to settle her three-drink tab. “Put your money away. All I ask is when the rest of the folks clear out, you let me spin you around the dance floor.” The blush that lit up her cheeks and the coy smile she gave me, it was all I needed. I made sure everything was cleaned up quickly with the servers and customers. Once they were out the door and said doors were locked, that’s when my hand went to Reese’s, a slow song already playing in the background, and now she’s wrapped up in my arms.
“Thank you for tonight.” Her head tips up. The few overhead lights I left on when I closed down the bar let me see the richness in her hair, Reese’s high cheekbones, the yellow flecks that are interspersed in her green eyes, the long eyelashes that highlight them. But the smile she gives me, it’s one I want to see for a very long time. The guy who swore up and down just a few months ago he wasn’t ready to settle down, yet here I am holding a woman in my arms and thinking of everything I could see doing with her for the rest of my life, including things like dancing in the kitchen early in the morning or late at night.
“Nothing to thank me for, sunshine. It’s me who should be thanking you, staying here your whole night, waiting around on me. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” She settles her head on my chest. My lips graze the top of her head, soaking up the scent of her shampoo, light and airy with a hint of peaches.
“It was fun, and I mean it’s not like I was going to do anything else except walk up and down the town until my feet took me back to my cottage.” She lifts her head up. I use Reese’s hand to spin her around before she’s back in my arms again, this time facing out as the beat has picked up a few paces, and we switch to a two-step.
“Just the same. You could have gone back to your place. Which, since you told me you walked here, don’t think I’m going to let you walk back by yourself. My truck is out back, or I’ll walk you there,” I tell her. There isn’t a lot of violence out here, more or less party goers who can get rowdy. It’s not like I won’t be driving back to my place either. It’s on the outskirts of Galveston. A ranch-style house on a small patch of land. It may not seem like a whole lot, but it’s mine, even if it does need work.