Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
She looked at me curiously. “Do you know that I have a side hustle?”
I grinned. “You mean, do I know that you write anonymous letters for a living? If that’s what you’re asking, yes. I know. I know everything there is to know about you, plus some you don’t realize yourself. I did a thorough background check on you when I realized how attached the Battle Crows MC is to your dad’s bar.”
Her brows rose up, and I could tell that she wanted to ask what, exactly, I knew.
“Suffice it to say,” I said, “I know that you need to go to the gynecologist, because you haven’t been in over a year. I know that you flubbed your CDL driver’s test, told them you didn’t wear glasses, when you do, in fact, wear glasses. And I know that you have a pretty shitty family on your mother’s side.”
Her mouth opened and closed, and I could tell that she wanted to question me more.
But I said, “When you’re ready to talk about that last particular thing, I’m here. But until then, just know you don’t have to beat around the bush. And I know it was an invasion of privacy, but there’s not a single thing I wouldn’t do to protect those men I now call my brothers.”
Banger sighed and looked at her hands. “Do you really ‘need’ me there as a secretary? Or was it because you heard how low I am in my bank account right now?”
“Both?” I asked, hoping I came off as sounding bashful and not condescending. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation as I came into the room. Which brings me to my next suggestion. Go and get all the shit that you need on my card. It’s my fault you’re having to get it done, anyway. And don’t feel bad when they charge you extra because it’s short notice. Also, I have a friend that’s a hairdresser if you need her. I can text her. She’ll make room for me… or you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and that’s when I realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Oh, and there was a hole near one nipple that allowed me to see just the hint of flesh peeking through. There was a distinct separation between colors, letting me know that I was seeing a flash of her nipple with each sway of her breasts.
I licked my lips as she said, “I will think about being your secretary. And I’ll definitely be taking you up on the offer of buying my dress. I don’t have anything formal. At all. Unless you count my junior prom dress that Mirabel stole from me and gave it back to me damaged. And this hairdresser friend… is she someone that you’ve slept with? I don’t want this to be awkward.”
I winced. “I’ve slept with her once. And once only. Only because we were both drunk as hell, and neither one of us… look, she’s gay. Or a lesbian. I’m not sure which term fits for a chick that likes other chicks. She’s more apt to like you than me at this point.”
Please, God. Make sure you change the shirt, or she really will think you’re hotter than me.
“How does one go about sleeping with a hairstylist that’s gay?” she asked. “How does that work? How did you even meet her?”
“We met when she came in telling me she needed surveillance done on her place, and needed some sort of protection on her website and social media accounts. Originally, I was going to say no, because I tend to lean more toward private sector and government contract business. But she looked so desperate that I helped. It was when I first moved down here and started to find work, so I had time. Needless to say, she was thankful. And she’s sweet. So it was just one of those things. We became friends. She now cuts my hair when I deem it necessary, and one single time we had sex. She said I was horrible at it.”
I hadn’t meant to add that last part, but she started to giggle, so I suppose it worked out in the end.
But I didn’t want the woman standing in front of me thinking I was awful at sex. Even if I was.
I had a reason for being ‘awful,’ at least, in my honest opinion I did. But I wasn’t going to explain that to her, either.
“Okay.” She finally sighed. “I guess I can handle a gay friend who thinks you’re awful at sex.”
I winced, causing her to laugh.
Her laughter slid right off her face when she got a phone call.
“Who’s that?” I questioned.
“My dad,” she grumbled. “He’s been calling for a couple of hours now. His first voice mail said, ‘Mirabel is running this place into the ground. Please come back.’ The second one simply said, ‘Call me.’”