Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Walking back into the restaurant, I clutch the glasses in my hands, but then I spot him. Leaning on the lunch bar, sipping a glass of soda like he was there the whole time. The worry that started to wind its way into my chest and head melts.
He stands there, his gray T-shirt smudged with grease and dirt, and the sun has certainly worked its magic the past week, putting a tan on his body and color back into his face. The bags under his eyes are still there, but he’s sleeping at least. He looks over at me, and I give him a smile he doesn’t return, but that’s okay. I can read his eyes well enough now to know he had a good day.
It’s a little better since he started getting out of the house more. He refused my offer to make an appointment for him to talk to someone, even though I told him he could do it over the phone, and talking to someone is the best way for him to manage this. But Macon’s instincts tell him he can rely on only himself. I’ll keep trying, though.
Trace and Dallas walk past, whipping off their shirts, and Army circles my waist, bringing me in.
“Miss me?” he asks.
I laugh, drawing my hands back from his chest. “You’re all wet.”
He leans into my ear. “Clean your tables, and then come into the shower and clean me.”
I chew the corner of my mouth, and he waits.
“Seventeen! Order up!”
I jump and pry his hands off.
“Saved by the bell,” he teases as I walk away.
I slip behind the bar, refilling the glasses, and leave them there as I grab my order. I don’t know if Macon is looking at me, but I’m barely aware of anything other than him standing right there as I drop the plates at the table and make my way back for the drinks.
Someone touches my arm. “Can I get rice and beans instead?”
I nod. “Sure.”
I take the drinks to the table outside, come back in and get the rice and beans, and sweep through the room, clearing dishes and getting more napkins.
Army and the guys sit at a table, waiting, and people say things to me but I’m too distracted. I feel Macon’s eyes.
On my stomach, on my hair draping down my arms, on my chest through my white tank top. On my face.
Lost in thought, I’m in Army’s lap before I even know what’s happening.
He smiles, holding me tight.
“Seriously?” I ask.
He needs the whole world to know he’s horny.
Paisleigh rushes in. “¿Puedo tomar algo?”
“Huh?”
“¿Puedo tomar algo?” she says again.
I look at Army in confusion.
He chuckles, looking at my sister. “Yes, you can have something to drink,” he tells her. “Go in the kitchen and ask Mariette. She’ll get you some juice.”
But I grab Paisleigh before she runs off. “You’re learning Spanish?”
“Jasmine only speaks to us in Spanish,” she informs me. “Traeme una limonada,” Army tells her.
She salutes him. “Bueno.” And then she runs off, behind the counter and into the kitchen.
First, riding a bike. Now a new language.
“Seriously?” I say again. “She’s spent less time over here than me, and she speaks the language already?”
“Kids are sponges,” Trace adds.
“You don’t know Spanish.”
“Talking will never be what I’m best at,” he taunts, his double meaning clear with the gleam in his eyes.
Army and Dallas chuckle at his comeback, and I struggle not to roll my eyes.
Glancing over at Macon, I see a couple of women at the counter, one of them swiveling her chair in his direction and smiling. He doesn’t smile back, but he’s talking to her. He nods, his expression calm, his breathing relaxed. Tranquil.
“What’s going on with him?” I hear Army ask.
I tear my eyes away.
I don’t have to ask to know he’s talking about Macon. “Have you asked him that?”
I don’t want to talk about Macon behind his back, even though his family should be involved.
He’s talking to me, though, and I don’t want to ruin that.
“I mean with you and him,” Army clarifies.
“Nothing.” I shrug it off. “He just needs sleep.”
“You’ve slept in his room all week.”
Goose bumps spread up my arms at the reminder of how I can’t wait for the days to end now. How he just looks at me and doesn’t have to say that he doesn’t want to be alone, and I get my pillow and follow him.
Nothing has happened, but I wake up with his arms wrapped around me.
I stare at him talking to the girl. She taps something on her phone and hands it to him. He slips it into his pocket.
Wait … That was his phone. What was she typing into his phone?
Is he going to kick me out of his bed tonight?
“We’re just sleeping,” I murmur to Army. “Nothing else.”
“He keeps looking at you,” he states. “I don’t like it.”