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)
“Okay,” I tell him. “Just know that I’m here to talk if you want to. Whenever you want to.”
“Thanks,” he says. “What about you? Why don’t you have a woman in your life?”
“I’ve got my bar.”
“You need a woman.”
“My bar is less complicated. I always know what I’m getting and what to expect from it. There are no surprises,” I reply with a grin.
And up until the other day, that statement was true. But having a beautiful little redhead show up on my doorstep certainly complicated things for me. For a few days anyway.
“That’s kind of sad, old man,” he says.
“It suits me just fine,” I reply with a shrug. “Anyway, what’s in the bag?”
“I thought I’d take you up on that offer to work out with you. If it still stands, anyway?”
I made the offer to work him out months ago, and every time I asked, he begged off. This is the first time he’s ever expressed an interest in it. It’s progress. It’s a step forward for us and one that seems like a big positive.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Yeah. I think a workout would do me some good right about now.”
“All right then,” I say. “Let me lock the door and we’ll get out there.”
“Go easy on me.”
I scoff. “I don’t go easy on anybody.”
4
CASSIE
“Hey,” he says, his face registering his surprise.
“Hi,” I reply quietly.
“I didn’t expect to see you back here,” he says.
A wry smile twists my lips. “I didn’t expect to come back. The last thing you need is for me to be darkening your doorstep again.”
“Don’t be silly,” he says gently. “Come in.”
Cash holds the door open to the bar and lets me in, closing and locking it after me. It’s just past noon and he’s sheathed in sweat. His face is red, and he’s breathing hard. From somewhere deeper in the building, I hear the gruff, growling voice of Rob Zombie’s ‘Dragula’ playing. We stand in the middle of the bar staring at each other. My heart flutters wildly, and my throat is suddenly dry. The silence lingers on as his golden eyes burn into me, my pulse racing so fast, I’m afraid my heart is going to explode inside of me.
“You’ve got good taste in music,” I say for lack of anything intelligent to say.
He grins. “Always been a big fan of Rob Zombie. It’s good music to work out to.”
It’s been a week since I left Cash’s place that morning. A week spent on the sofas of the few friends I do have. My job search has come up empty, and every morning I wake up, that sense of desperation-fueled panic grips me tighter. It fills me with such dread, it’s choking the life out of me. The only good thing I’ve done this past week is leave my boyfriend once and for all. It’s not much in terms of accomplishments, but it’s something. I guess.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your workout,” I say.
“It’s fine. Come on out back with me.”
I follow him through the bar, the silence in the building seeming to be odd and out of place. He takes me through a door in the back of a small kitchen, stepping into an enclosed courtyard that’s covered by a tin roof. Bright green astroturf covers the ground in the courtyard and various exercise equipment sits atop black, rubber mats. I lick my lips and try to work some moisture into my mouth as I avert my gaze, doing my best to keep from leering at his body. Dressed in shorts and a tank top, Cash’s body is on full display. His biceps are as big around as my thigh, and he’s got a couple of tats high up on his arms. He sees me looking at them.
He points to the one on his upper right arm. “This is my unit’s logo when I was with the Rangers,” he says and points to the one on his left. “And this is one a guy in my unit designed. We all got them when we were overseas.”
I’m having trouble forming a coherent thought, let alone a word, and don’t really know what to say, so I nod stupidly as I gape at him. The deep bass of Cash’s chuckle rumbles across my skin, making my stomach turn a somersault as it ignites that familiar fire between my thighs. I grit my teeth and try to push all the inappropriate thoughts flitting through my mind as Cash walks over and hits a button on his phone, cutting off the music, and plunging his makeshift gym into silence.
He grabs a towel and wipes his face as he sits on the bench press. “So, what can I do for you, Cassie?”
“I left my boyfriend,” I blurt out.
“Yeah? Good for you. You deserve better.”
I shuffle my feet and wring my hands together, not sure how to ask what I came here to ask. Asking for somebody’s charity is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. My folks raised me to be self-sufficient and independent. They taught me that I have to be able to provide for myself. And yet, here I am, proverbial hat in hand, looking for a handout. I have never felt so ashamed in my life.