Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Tell me, little doll,” he said, then took the cigarette from his mouth. His eyes were almost black now as he narrowed his gaze. “Who made you cry?”
I blinked, reminding myself to breathe. He was just very distracting. I needed that right now. If only he could come home with me and distract me from the life I was being forced to exist in. The idea of taking him in my house caused a laugh to bubble out of me, and I covered my mouth to muffle it. He was going to think I was insane. Running and crying, now laughing. Maybe I had lost it. My mother had been the cause of my mental break. I could see that happening in the future if I didn’t get out of that house and out from under her thumb.
He raised an eyebrow as he placed the cigarette back between his teeth.
I cleared my throat. “Sorry. I must look crazy. I just … thought about something, and it was funny.” I shook my head. That hadn’t made sense at all.
“I’m listening,” he drawled.
I glanced around, mostly so I didn’t ogle him like a weirdo. “Where did you come from?” I asked him, wanting to change the subject.
“Hell,” he replied. “Now, answer my question.”
I stared back at him, and his eyes held me there. It was a simple question—or so it would seem to anyone else—but telling someone like Thatcher Shephard that my momma controlled my life was humiliating. I licked my lips, wishing I had some better answer. One that didn’t make me sound so pathetic.
I decided to answer the reason I’d laughed instead of explaining why I had been crying.
“I was thinking about the fact that you seem to show up when I need a distraction, and then I thought about needing a distraction from my mom and taking you home with me. Seeing her face …” I trailed off then, not sure I should have said that either. “I mean, my mom is just real religious, and she’s a gossip, so she would think—I mean, she’d—I didn’t mean for that to sound so offensive.” I was rambling, trying to make this better. My entire face had to be as red as an apple.
“Doll, if your momma liked me, then I’d be offended,” he replied as the corner of his lips quirked, like he just might smile, but didn’t. He shoved off from the tree he’d been leaning against and took a few steps closer to me. “Who made you cry?” His tone dropped a notch, and the threat in it made me tense.
Why did he care so much? What was he gonna do, go take up for me like he had at the ice cream shop? My stomach turned as I thought about why those guys would never bother me again. I tried not to let my head go in their direction. Dad was right, and bad choices caused tragedies. It wasn’t my fault.
The way he was studying me so intently made me believe he wasn’t going to let this go. I had to make something up that was half truth and half lie. I didn’t want him to know how sheltered I was. It was too embarrassing to think about.
“I’ve been working a lot to save up so I can get my own apartment. I thought I had found one, but turned out, I didn’t get it. That one was the only thing available that was in my budget.” There. That was the truth. I’d just left out a lot of details.
He took the cigarette from his mouth and let out some smoke as he glanced back toward the park, then at me. “You’re ready for freedom, I take it? Done with living in the minister’s house?”
I nodded, feeling the heaviness settle back over me again. He had no idea how done with it I was or how smothering my mother could be.
“That’s the only reason you’re crying?” he asked me.
The urge to blurt out the entire truth to him was tempting. I wanted to. I wanted to tell him everything, and if it wasn’t that his older, sexy, possibly dangerous guy would think I was pathetic, then I would. But I liked him showing up in my life. It was always brief, but it made the bad stuff fade away. Which was ironic since most people I knew were terrified of him.
Instead of spilling my guts, I just nodded.
He smirked, almost as if he didn’t believe me. Was I that bad of a liar?
“All right then,” he replied, dropping his cigarette to the ground and covering it with the toe of his boot. “If there is no one I need to kill, I’ll leave you to your run.”
I frowned as he turned and walked away, but not toward the park. He walked to the woods behind us. Had he come from the woods? Was that why I hadn’t seen him? But why would he have been in the woods?