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)
“Um, yes. Barrell racing,” I told him.
“You any good?”
I bit my bottom lip and tried not to look smug. “I ranked fourth in first division this season. In Georgia, I mean.”
There was a slight curve to his lips. “Impressive.”
I shrugged. His family owned champion thoroughbreds. That was all I had really known of the Shephards until I went trying to find out who Thatcher was. I had never seen their stables or even driven by them. Most folks didn’t drive back down the road that led by their house.
“Thanks.”
He put the bag with the last cookie in my lap. “It’ll be dark soon. Better walk on back home while there is still light out.”
I stared up at him as he stood.
“See you around, little doll,” he said, then walked off, leaving me there to watch him go.
Two days later, a box of lemon crinkle cookies was left on our front porch.
• Three •
“Don’t recall inviting anyone.”
Thatcher
Present Day
Leaning against the concrete wall of what had once been an old firehouse storm shelter, I took a deep pull from my cigarette as I studied the pansy-ass bastard hanging by his wrists from the ceiling. He’d pissed his pants and I found that pathetic. Both of his eyes were so swollen that I didn’t know if he could still see me or not. I wasn’t sure just yet what I was going to do with him. He should be thankful he was still alive.
If I hadn’t been keeping tabs on him and he’d made her cry, then he’d be dead. This punishment would have never happened. But seeing as how I was the one who had caught him fucking some bitch after calling Capri, I hadn’t snapped … completely. I was just triggered enough to make him wish he’d left her the fuck alone. My head stayed clear for the most part. Sure, I had jerked him off the woman he’d mounted and dragged him from the cheap-ass hotel room, but I hadn’t slit his throat.
Flicking my ashes, I considered leaving him here and letting fate have its hand. It was what I was leaning toward, but I knew he’d die. I might as well kill him now if that was the case.
“Why?” he croaked out.
Taking another pull from my cigarette I thought about that answer. I’d not said much to him. I wasn’t one to waste words. I found most shit that came out of people’s mouths was pointless.
I took the cigarette from between my lips and studied him for a moment. Probably best that he knew why he was here. What lesson would he learn if I didn’t teach him?
“You’ve spent the past three weeks leading Capri on. Flirting with her. Making her think you’re into her,” I told him.
“I was—I am,” he stammered.
My body tensed, and I had to take another pull from the nicotine that no longer took the edge off like it once had. Now, it was just a fucking habit.
“Might want to be real careful with the words you choose to use,” I warned him.
Even I couldn’t be sure what would make me react. The knife I kept in my left boot was too close for me to slide out and use.
“We’re not in an exclusive relationship.” The pleading tone didn’t help my mood.
I continued to use my smoke as a calming technique the best I could. That stupid bastard was pushing me. When I took a step toward him, he flinched as if I had hit him. Typically, I got a high from teaching lessons, causing pain. But right now, I was too focused on remaining sane.
“You’re fucking sluts you picked up at bars and then getting close to Capri.” I shook my head as a shiver of disgust curled inside me. “I can’t have that.” I took the cigarette from my mouth and dropped it onto the floor before covering it with my boot. “I can’t have that,” I repeated.
He said nothing, but the way he trembled as I took another step closer to him told me he could still see. I ran the pad of my thumb over my bottom lip as the bristle from my unshaved face reminded me that I needed to shave. Maybe I’d grow it out. Try the beard shit.
“I didn’t know she was, uh, important to you,” he babbled.
That was the conundrum. One I had yet to figure out. There was little that caused any real reaction from me. When I had been a kid, my father had found humor in it while my mother looked at me like she was frightened. I had often wondered if my lack of emotion was why she never treated me like she did my brother. Our mother’s adoration of Sebastian never bothered me, but as a kid, I’d noted her lack of interaction with me.