Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
His hands were big, rugged, relaxed on the bar top. And no wedding ring. Though I didn’t wear one either.
When I returned to his face, his eyes narrowed, locked on something over my shoulder.
An arm reached from behind me and slid over the bar. A black sleeve. A man’s hand. Holding a watch.
Hot breath stroked my ear, snapping my spine straight. “Tell Mr. Anderson,” he whispered, “Time’s up.”
As I turned, the man’s lanky backside slipped into the throng of people and disappeared. I blew out a breath. Well, that was weird.
Twisting back, my attention caught on the watch beside the martini. A Timex watch with a fake leather band, the dials frozen on October twenty-seventh, eight o’clock. A month from today.
I glanced across the bar, and my ogler was no longer ogling, his gaze on the dark draft cupped in his hands. My stomach dropped. Had he lost interest? Maybe he was just giving me privacy?
Reaching into the clutch on my lap, I removed my phone and pulled up the text screen.
Me: still at the studio?
The response came back instantly.
Collin: Leaving shortly. Everything okay?
Me: meeting’s over. gave me a timex to give ur dad. does trent have a cheap watch collection I dont know about?
I’d told Collin I was meeting someone for Trent, because I did that a lot, handling dinners with big clients and schmoozing with investors.
Collin didn’t need to know tonight’s meeting hadn’t been a meeting at all. He didn’t need to know about the shady shit I did for his father. It would only add to his guilt about our situation. He’d ask questions, and the answers would make him an accomplice. Like me.
An accomplice to what I had no fucking clue.
Collin: Well you are at The Watch. Maybe it’s a joke? What did he say?
Me: time’s up
Collin: LOL. Probably something to do with his odd bohemian fraternity buddies.
I wasn’t so sure. My gut told me something significant was going to happen on October twenty-seventh at eight o’clock. I slipped the watch into the clutch. Tomorrow morning, I’d have one of my trusted engineers in the I/T department check it for chips before I turned it over to Trent.
Collin: You headed home?
Was I? I glanced across the bar and locked onto a pair of moody eyes. We exchanged a look, but I had no clue what it meant. He glared at me like he wanted to eat me. Or hurt me. Maybe both. Yet he hadn’t moved a single sinewy muscle to make that happen.
Maybe he was married. Or assumed I was.
Or maybe he was aggravated because I was giving my phone more attention than I was giving him. I grinned, and his scowl deepened.
Me: a man is staring at me. hard.
Collin: Not bald and holding a knife is he?
Ugh. He was never going to let me forget that. Not that I could. He’d made me swear on his life and the lives of the children we would never have that my Evader days were over.
As much as it sickened me, I agreed. The races weren’t safe. Didn’t stop me from having a little meltdown in the privacy of my room, complete with pathetic farewell tears for the underground racing world.
Me: not funny
Collin: No it’s not. So is he hawt?
Hot? He had the bearing of a medieval warrior. Thick forearms, broad shoulders, strong jaw, heavy brow, battle-ready glare. My body itched to move, tensing, leaning forward. I wanted to go to him, touch the scruff on his cheeks, fold into his side, and smell the skin on his neck.
Me: scorching
Collin: What are you wearing?
Me: rockabilly red
Collin: Damn. No wonder he’s staring. He’s probably not the only one. You look like a pin up girl in that dress.
Oh, Collin. A smile warmed my cheeks. I hadn’t realized how much I needed that effortless compliment. It invigorated me, like the unpredictable notes of the saxophone, soothing away the notion that I wasn’t enough for my husband, that the underground racing would go on without me, that I had a menacing watch in my purse.
The guy with the glaring problem didn’t seem very thrilled with the smile I gave my phone. If he squeezed his pint any harder, it might break.
Collin: Garters?
Me: of course
Collin: In that case, I won’t expect you home anytime soon. Don’t break too many hearts.
What did he think I’d do? I didn’t have sex without Collin choosing the man and running the background check.
Except Evader. I would’ve fucked him. Right there in that elevator.
Me: I need a Seth
Collin: Yeah, you do. He's incredible.
Oh sure, rub it in. I returned the phone to my clutch and set it on the bar.
The older man beside me slipped off the stool and wandered into the crowd, leaving a vacant seat. An opening for another man. My pulse fluttered. I glanced up, and he was definitely staring. Just not at me.