Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
"Heathen?" she says, releasing his hand so she can turn back to face me.
"It's a nickname."
"I'd love to hear the story."
"There's no story," I argue.
"There's a story," Rooster adds. "But maybe at a later time."
I glare at the man, but I shouldn't be surprised that he's well aware of how the name stuck so long ago. I have no doubt he knows more about me than I know about myself. If I had any skeletons in my closet, I might be a little worried about that, but mostly, I'm an open book, so it doesn't instill fear in me like it might others.
"Let me show you to our room," I mutter and step closer to her. "It's upstairs."
"It was nice to meet you, Rooster," Kaylee says, giving him an easy smile, the complete opposite of how she acted the first time we met.
She doesn't speak again until he closes himself back into the conference room that also serves as his office, since all of his computer equipment is in there.
"He seems nice," she says.
"He's a peach," I murmur, doing my best to keep the irritation out of my tone and failing miserably. "The room is this way."
I wonder as we climb the stairs, with her right behind me, if I should've asked if it was okay to bring her here, but even the conversation with Kincaid earlier didn’t leave me feeling like I made a mistake in how I handled things. With the way the clubhouse gets sometimes back in New Mexico and all the people there, I don't know why I was worried about it in the first place.
"This is us," I tell her, stopping in front of my bedroom door.
I feel instant regret for not making my bed the last time I was here because her first impression of my personal space was a little messy and out of order.
"I should've made the bed," I mutter as I flip on the light.
"Why?" she asks as she steps inside and looks around. "You'll just mess it up when you get back into it."
I give her a quick easy smile because that's always been my reasoning and not making my bed has always felt like that minor pushback to authority after my eight years in the military.
"We have to share a room," I explain as I walk further into the room and drop off her bag of things near the closet. "The others are spoken for."
"No big deal. It's not like it'll be for very long," she says, stepping closer to the window and pulling back the curtain to peer outside. "This place is unreal."
"Pretty impressive," I say, my tone soft as I focus on the back of her head.
She throws me a smile over her shoulder, and I feel like a man standing in front of a huge crowd, holding one of those massive checks after winning the lottery. I'm a fool for her attention, and I know just how dangerous that makes this situation.
"Is that a golf course?"
"Putt-putt," I say, crossing the room just to be closer to her. "Nine or ten holes, I think."
"I haven't played putt-putt in so long," she says, as if she's reaching way back into her past for the memory.
"I'd offer to take you down, but I have a little work I need to get done," I tell her.
It's more lies than truth. There's always something that can be done around here, but I really need some distance, despite my eagerness to be right beside her. It's like facing an addiction and testing my resiliency, something I get the feeling I'll be unsuccessful at if I try it too many times.
"Feel free to roam the property, just don't try to get in any places that are locked. This floor is all bedrooms, so I wouldn't go turning any doorknobs up here. I can introduce you to the guys as they trickle in," I say, taking a big enough step back that I can't smell the hotel bodywash on her skin.
It leaves my flesh feeling a little itchy, but instead of scratching or feeding the need to step in closer again, I turn toward the door, pausing with my hand on the knob when she calls my name.
I turn back to face her, hating that she was traumatized this evening and had to sneak out of her house like a criminal in order to stay safe.
"Hey," I whisper, giving in to that urge to be near her again.
I curl a finger under her chin when she attempts to break eye contact with me.
"You're safe here," I assure her. "Rooster knows the second someone crosses the perimeter. No one here will touch you."
"Promise?" she whispers, her eyes locked on my mouth.
I lick my dry lips, noticing the way her pupils dilate, but knowing it must be the fear she felt earlier rearing its ugly head. Although she's okay with me protecting her, she isn't interested in me past that.