Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Just a courier picking up some flowers.
That’s what I try to tell myself. It’s true. I can see it for myself.
The parts of me that want her, the parts drawn to Jasmine to claim her as my own… they’re not parts that have good reasoning or even accountability.
It’s my inner animal. The beast in me… call it what you want.
And when it senses another male within spitting distance of what I know is mine? Well, how else am I supposed to act? I totally lose control.
But having “known” her for less than five minutes, it doesn’t take a genius to see I’ve gone too far. It’s not a line I mind crossing at all. Just a pity it’s a line in the wrong direction.
“Ummm… that was pretty rude,” Jasmine finally says sharply, after taking a moment to collect her thoughts.
She crimps her mouth, doing her best to look stern with me. Seeing anything less than a smile in her eyes cuts me like a knife, and knowing I put that frown on her sweet face makes me madder at myself than I could ever be with whatever the fuck his name was.
Courier guy.
The thought makes me growl again. And I can see my behavior isn’t just out of order. It’s probably frightening Jasmine, which is the last thing I want to do.
Her eyes widen and dart to the door. I’m not mad at her. I know I never could be, no matter what she said or did.
When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored wall behind her, I see how crazy I look, giving a face to how insane I sounded.
My hands have balled into fists, and my chest is heaving like I’ve just run a marathon. My eyes look like they could gut, skin, and filet twenty Theos without me even stopping to notice.
But these swimmers I’ve got inside…
The seed I want to plant. Pollinate her flower with.
That’s the fuel I’m running on now, and too bad for me. It stops my mouth from checking with my brain first before it goes and makes things worse.
“How long has that been going on?” I clip, feeling the rising alarm inside when I hear the tone of accusation in my voice.
Jasmine’s shoulders drop. Her expression that reads “really?” says it all.
I’m acting and sounding like a maniac. Worse than a maniac.
I look like a man whose been up all night staring at an apartment building, thinking of her.
Thinking how perfect it would be if I followed her or spoke to her.
Or… I could just run my mouth like a psycho, accuse her of something between her and her courier of all things, and ruin any chance I might have at conversation, let alone what I know is destiny between us—basically, do everything wrong.
Dammit!
I’ve blown it. I see the hurt anger it’s generated in her eyes. It’s a hurt that matches the size of my instant regret. I can’t bear to be the one to cause her sadness.
Her baby blues are hard and serious, eying the door again, but not looking for a way out. They’re signaling me to leave.
I’ve had my fair share of tough clients, cross-examining witnesses, and dealing with the worst of the worst of humankind when I was doing that thing I do so well in a courtroom.
But nothing’s stopped me in my tracks quicker and harder than the look Jasmine gives me.
I know whatever I say or do will just make this worse.
Against every instinct, against every fiber of my being, I turn on my heel and leave. I don’t look back.
I can’t.
Seeing the look I know she’s wearing would be too much to bear. And as sure as I’ve blown it once, I’d only blow it open a little wider with any attempt to backpedal from the lunatic all-star cycling team I just joined.
I get halfway down the street when I start to curse myself. Under my breath at first, still shaking my head, but by the time I reach a crosswalk, I’m having a full-blown argument with myself and out loud.
All those people you see on the street? The so-called “crazy” ones who talk and swear to themselves?
They’re just reliving that one time they had a chance in their life. That one second out of the years they waited.
And they fucked it up like I just have.
I’m not too far from beating my own brow by the time I cross the street.
Foot traffic and cars are moving out of my way as I stagger in disbelief. A man my size looking and acting the way I am? People are going to move.
Amazed but bitterly sore, I just acted like such a total and complete ass.
It must be a dozen or so blocks before I realize I have no idea where I am. In an instant, I stop and check myself. I then remind myself that James Jones, the hotshot attorney turned shameless success story, doesn’t get rattled by anything… until today.