Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
The moment that I graduated from Texas Tech, I’d moved away, and hadn’t looked back since.
And hell, had college not been practically free due to my mother’s working at said college, I certainly wouldn’t have gone there. I’d have been gone the day I turned eighteen and could legally move out of her house.
“We got you a room set up where lawyers usually meet with the inmates. Once I have you there, I’ll go get Westfield. Okay?” Mick asked.
I gave him a thumbs up, then he was gone, leaving me alone in a stark room that had all the furniture bolted down to the floor.
I sat, then studied my outfit.
I’d gone with a pencil skirt that left very little to the imagination, and a sleeveless white top that hugged every single curve and fat roll.
After situating myself, and making sure that my stomach was hidden by my bag—even though I’d lost weight, years and years of covering up the extra girth around my belly never quite went away—I waited patiently with my eyes on the door.
I heard the murmuring and the thudding steps before I saw anyone.
“I’m not interested in giving anyone an interview,” Wake snapped from the hallway.
“Dutch has done a lot for this community. You will talk to her, even if it is to give her the bare minimum,” Mick growled.
That was a stretch.
I’d donated a lot of time to the community, sure. Right when I’d moved here, they’d had a hurricane. I’d been a “big help” according to the mayor with children and adults that were traumatized by the storm. I’m sure my brother made it out to be bigger than it actually was. Only someone that was heartless would not lend that listening shoulder out when needed.
There was a long moment of silence and then, “Did you say her name was Dutch?”
My heart started to beat a thousand miles an hour, then my breath left me when the man first appeared.
Holy.
Shit.
Wake Westfield’s mugshots and photos that were plastered in the newspaper didn’t do him any justice.
In fact, if I had to admit to anything ever being wrong with Wake’s appearance, it was that he was too hot.
Holy hell, was he sexy.
He was tall, about six foot three or four, and had the broadest shoulders I’d ever seen.
Those shoulders were muscular, too.
As in, I could curl my fingers around the tops of both shoulder caps, and only get my fingers partially around them.
His traps were excellent, too.
If he were to come to my gym, he would be the one everyone watched.
He prowled toward me, and even in chains, it was evident that he owned the room he was walking into.
“You Dutch?” he asked as he sat down.
A shiver danced down my spine at how intimate him saying my name felt.
“Yes,” I answered, amazed that I hadn’t stuttered.
Thank God for speech classes that forced me out of my comfort zones.
He gestured toward Mick with a flick of his hand and said, “Give us the room. I’m not saying shit to her with you hovering over my shoulder.”
While his face was turned toward Mick, I was studying all the tattoos on his body. The way his jawline looked like it was carved from granite.
He had a nice, close-cropped brownish-red beard, bordering a set of fantastic lips.
“Be good,” Mick said. “I was supposed to handcuff you to the table.”
Supposed to? And he didn’t?
That was a surprise.
Not that I minded.
But still.
When or if my brother walked in, he’d have a shit fit to end all shit fits.
Those beautiful brown eyes rolled my way as he processed Mick’s words, and I felt my stomach drop at the sight of all his attention solely focused on me.
His brown hair that was shaved on the sides and longer on top fell into those eyes, momentarily breaking our stare off, and I felt relief flow through me.
He waited until Mick’s footsteps could no longer be heard before he said, “How the hell did you make this happen?”
He was wondering how the hell I’d managed to get in here and talk to him. How I’d managed to get a letter to him without getting it read first.
I could really get him in trouble, sure.
But… I was banking on the fact that he was willing to risk it.
CHAPTER 5
Finally realized that I wasn’t asking too much. I was just asking the wrong person.
-Wake to Dutch
WAKE
A redhead.
I didn’t know what I expected of her when it came from a single letter, but this woman definitely wasn’t it.
She was tall, not nearly my height, no. But she was definitely taller than the average female. Five-seven or eight, if I had to guess. And those lips.
I’d never seen a set of lips on a female before that I thought I would call ‘kissable’ but those were definitely a set that I would. Her eyes were an interesting shade of blue. Not quite blue or green, but a mixture of the two. Hell, I wouldn’t even call them hazel, either, because there was no hint of brown in them at all.