Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“Please,” she says again.
“Come in, come in,” I reply.
Ushering her into the bar, I close the door behind us and lock it up tight. Pulling the shade aside, I take one more peek out at the street but still see nobody out there. The girl, her arms wrapped around her chest tightly, shivers and drips on the floor, her entire body trembling. Even wet and bedraggled as she is, the girl is staggeringly beautiful. Her clothing is soaked and clings to the gentle swell and curves of a body that’s young but entirely feminine. My stomach lurches, and my groin tightens as I stare at her.
Giving myself a small shake, I clear my throat and run a hand through my hair as I take a beat to gather myself. Her eyes are wide, her lower lip trembles, and she looks like a frightened deer on the verge of bolting.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Cassie,” she replies, her voice a shaky whisper. “Cassie Robb.”
“I’m Cash. What’s going on? Is somebody chasing you?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I just ran. I saw the lights on in your bar and didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry, I just—”
“It’s all right. But you’re soaked. We need to get you some dry clothes and probably some hot coffee so you don’t get hypothermic.”
Her voice carries a soft and sweet accent that I find sexy as hell. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s from Georgia. A guy in my unit back in the day had an accent that sounded a lot like hers. It just sounded a hell of a lot less sexy coming out of his mouth than it does coming out of hers. Cassie looks around the place with a skeptical expression on her face. It’s as if she’s only just now realizing she stumbled into a bar.
“I own the building. There’s an apartment on the second floor,” I tell her.
“Oh.”
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go upstairs. We’ll get you dry and warm and maybe you can tell me what the hell is going on.”
She nods. After dropping the tub in the kitchen, figuring I’ll wash the glasses tomorrow, I shut off the lights and lead the girl upstairs. When I pass by her, I get a whiff of the citrus in her hair and the light floral scent of her perfume and close my eyes, savoring her aroma. It’s heady. She’s about a foot shorter than my six-three frame and tiny. Pixie-like. Cassie is small and delicate and the innocence I see in her eyes stirs something deep and primal within me.
The urge to tear her wet clothes off and have my way with her is powerful and unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I don’t know how to explain it. Hell, I don’t even fucking understand it myself. But this girl is triggering something inside of me that’s raw. Something that’s consuming, and it’s all I can do to keep my hands to myself. We get to the top of the stairs, and I open the door, letting her go in ahead of me.
Gritting my teeth and trying to stuff down those primal urges, I close and lock the door before I walk into my bedroom and grab some sweatpants, a t-shirt, socks, and a towel, then step back out into the living room. She’s standing in the middle of the room, her arms still wrapped around her midsection. Though she seems less frightened, she’s still wary. Her eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route. It’s as if she knows she jumped out of the fire but doesn’t know if she’s landed in the frying pan just yet.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice trembling. “I should probably go.”
“You’re going to catch your death out there. It’s pouring.” I set the bundle of clothes on top of the towel down on the coffee table in front of her. “The shower is through that door. Go take a hot shower. These clothes might not fit very well, but they’ll do until I can get your clothes dry.”
She gnaws on her bottom lip, her emerald eyes searching my face. I can see her taking my measure. See her trying to decide whether she can trust me or not. I must pass whatever test she has in her mind because she gives me a nod as she picks up the clothes and towel, doing her best to keep from dripping all over them.
“Thank you,” she says.
“I’ll put on a pot of coffee while you clean yourself up. And leave your clothes outside the bathroom door. I’ll pop them in the dryer.”
“I appreciate your help. You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m not going to turn my back on somebody who needs help.”
Her full, heart-shaped lips curl upward in a gentle smile that takes my breath away as she turns and walks into my bedroom. I’ve got two showers in the apartment, but the one in my room gets hotter and has better water pressure. I figure that one will be better for her. As I put a pot of coffee on, I hear the bathroom door open and then close, so I walk into the bedroom, scoop up the bundle of wet clothing, and carry it into the small laundry room set off in the kitchen.