Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
She closed her lips, biting them together for a tight seal in case her toothpaste wasn’t the same as his. The fact that she cared set off a multitude of foreign emotions. The butterflies returned. The nerves and anxiety remained, but they shifted their focus to the specimen before her instead of the dread of leaving the ground.
“Breathe, Jersey,” he whispered.
She jumped, gripping the armrests when his hands grazed her jean-clad legs to fasten her seat belt. They weren’t baggy, three-sizes-too-big jeans. Max insisted on fitted jeans that felt like a thin second skin. She called them sexy. Jersey didn’t feel sexy, but she also didn’t feel like she had much of a say in the matter because she wasn’t the one paying for the jeans.
Her cheeks burned as she relinquished a false smile that hid her trembling lips. She averted her gaze to the window when Ian tightened the seat belt. And she held her breath until he returned to his seat.
Closing her eyes, she imagined a fight—the adrenaline before the first punch and the way her body thrived on fear, gobbling it up, transforming it into strength, and conquering its fucking ass.
Once they were wheels up, two women appeared from an area at the back of the plane with two carts. One stopped bedside Chris and the other stopped next to Jersey.
“Manis-pedis.” Max smiled.
“What?” Jersey eyed the friendly redhead who placed a tray in front of Jersey and covered it with a warm towel.
“Manicure and pedicure. They’re going to get your hands and feet looking and feeling fabulous.”
Jersey cringed at Max. “How embarrassing.”
Max chuckled, glancing up from her phone. “Relaxing. Pampering. Amazing. Those are better descriptions.”
Ian’s eyes were closed, headphones covering his ears.
“Chris isn’t going to want his nails painted. Or probably anyone touching him.”
Wrong … Jersey craned her neck to see Chris. The cute, short-haired blonde already had Chris’s hands and feet soaking in something, and he was all smiles about it.
Much like the first shower, but thankfully not as much, Jersey watched the water in the basins darken as her hands and feet were submerged. The young redhead perched on a small, three-legged stool went to work on Jersey. She asked about several sores on Jersey’s feet and offered some type of herbal salve. Jersey had no idea what she meant by salve, but she couldn’t say no to something the woman promised would be soothing and healing.
“What color would you like?” She showed Jersey a rainbow of nail polish bottles. Jersey let Dena paint her fingernails and toenails once—light pink. She rolled her eyes at Dena, not wanting to admit that deep down she liked it because, despite the abuse, the murder, and the awful hand of cards, Jersey went through much of her life wanting to fit in. Normal felt like an unreachable dream, but nonetheless, still a dream.
What would Ian say? Or what if they ended up back at Marley’s and Jersey had pink polish on her nails?
“No polish.”
“You sure? What about clear?” The redhead seemed really enthused about putting polish on Jersey’s nails.
She wasn’t sure why. Jersey felt nauseated by the disgusting amount of dry skin the woman filed off her feet. Jersey prayed Ian would stay asleep and not see that.
“Or … black.” Shooting Jersey a wicked grin, nail lady held up a bottle of black nail polish.
Jersey’s lips twisted. “Whatever.” On a huff, she turned her attention to the window, giving Ian a quick glance first to make sure he wasn’t consciously witnessing the polish conversation.
As promised, they were back on the ground in no time. Two vehicles waited just beyond the plane. Without saying a word, Ian hopped into the back of the first SUV as Shane held open his door.
“This way.” Max ushered Chris and Jersey to the second vehicle. “Rex will get you both where you need to be. Jersey, Dani will show you the ropes for merch. I’ll see you later.”
“Where are you going?” Jersey stared at the SUV with Ian in the back of it.
“Ian has a jam-packed day of interviews and appearances. We’ll see you at the venue later.”
Before Jersey could respond, express any apprehension, or wrap her head around the whirlwind of events, Max slid in the backseat of the SUV, next to Ian, and the vehicle sped off into the distance.
Rex, the short, dark-haired man with a stalky build and an indifferent smile, held open the car door for Jersey. She hugged her bag and slid in next to Chris. He stared at her, which felt like progress—except his hard expression held more contempt than any sort of surrender.
“Don’t give me that look,” she said as Rex shut her door. “You’re being an asshole. I said I’d ask him questions, but I’m not going to do it on a plane with his assistant and bodyguard just feet away. And in case you haven’t noticed, he’s a busy guy. Not to mention the surprise washing of our hands and feet they sprung on us. I bet Max knew I wouldn’t go for that shit unless she pinned me in a corner on a plane a gazillion miles off the ground.” Jersey silenced her tongue when Rex opened the driver’s door.