Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I laugh, shaking my head. “It’s late and I’m tired.”
“Come on,” he insists, dragging the words out playfully. “Don’t make me tell Harley you’re not being a team player.”
I think he’s teasing, but I can’t be totally sure. I’ll admit that I like him the more I get to know him, but I don’t know him all that well and I don’t know if I can fully trust him to keep my secret. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” His tone is teasing, but I know he’s serious about wanting me to come out. He’s not above the threat of turning me in to Harley.
I sigh, glancing at the half-packed suitcase. “Lex, I really—”
“Posey,” he cuts me off, his voice suddenly softer. “Just come. For a little bit. I’m not asking you to stay all night. It’s a block from your hotel. I’ll walk there to get you if you want.”
Something in his tone grabs me, a mix of charm and sincerity. The gallant offer to come get me.
Against my better judgment, I roll my eyes. “Fine. But only for a little bit.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he says.
“Just text me the address. I can find it myself.” We’re in a busy and populated area of London, purportedly quite safe according to the research I did before booking my hotel. The streets are lined with restaurants and pubs, so I don’t have any hesitation in going out at this hour by myself.
Besides… I don’t want to read anything into Lex’s offer. It’s best not to indulge in such things.
“That’s my girl,” Lex murmurs and those words… that tone… it gives me goose bumps.
♦
The pub is crowded and noisy when I walk in, and I instantly regret my decision. The lights are dim, casting shadows among the dark wooden booths. The smell of spilled beer and the sound of laughter fills the air. I spot Lex and Ronan almost immediately, sitting at the bar, surrounded by a group of women who look like they’ve just stepped off a runway. They’re dressed in miniskirts or low-cut jeans that bare their bellies. They’re everything I’m not and I fight the urge to flee when Lex’s head turns my way.
He’s the first to notice me, his face lighting up with what looks like pure joy as he waves. “There she is!” he bellows, and suddenly, all eyes are on me.
I swallow hard, feeling completely out of place. The women glance in my direction, their eyes sweeping over my jeans and plain sweater before quickly dismissing me. Ronan’s gaze isn’t so much dismissive as it is chilly, a sneer tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Posey, come sit,” Lex says, motioning to the spot beside him. His smile is authentic and kind, and despite the tension in the air, I feel a bit of the pressure lift as I walk over and take the seat.
“Want a pint?” Lex asks, his words a little slower now. “I’ll buy you one.”
I shake my head. “No thanks, I’m good. But I’ll take water.”
“On it,” Lex says, standing on the footrest of his stool and leaning forward to get the attention of the bartender down the way.
One of the women snickers and inclines her head toward her friend, whispering something while looking me directly in the eye. Obviously, talking about me.
Ronan isn’t so subtle. He leans behind Lex, eyes me up and down before asking, “Is that like a journalist’s uniform? Jeans and a jumper. I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything else.”
His words are mocking, his meaning clear. I’m plain and boring and unworthy of hanging out with two FI drivers.
The words hurt, but more than that, they piss me off because they were mean-spirited and degrading. It was an absolute mistake to come here, thinking I would be welcomed and could hang out with these people. Besides that, my dad taught me to not let that type of negativity into my space. He often said, “Well, darlin’, life’s like a porcupine at a balloon party—if you don’t choose where to step, you’ll be surrounded by a whole lot of popping nonsense. So, it’s up to you to stick with the soft pillows, not the pointy quills!”
I stand abruptly, grabbing my bag, vaguely hearing Lex order me a glass of water. I tap him on the shoulder. “Don’t bother. I’m leaving.”
Lex looks confused, his brow furrowing as he watches me walk away. “Wait—what? Why? You just got here.”
I turn back to face him, see that he’s off his stool. My eyes cut to Ronan, then the women who all watch me with judgment. “Because the people you hang out with are assholes, and I’m tired. I’m not in the mood for this.”
There’s some satisfaction as the women’s mouths drop open but Ronan’s caustic smile stays in place. Doesn’t matter, though. I am truly done with the social aspect of these drivers. I write fiction and I can make up my own story of how they should behave.