Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Shit.
My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t had anything to eat since last night, and it’s now evening. It’s fine, I reason. I need to shed a few pounds anyway. What’s a little starvation?
I glance at the menu, relieved to see there’s a Friday-night special during happy hour. A five-dollar happy hour bar pizza sounds divine right about now.
The bartender wipes down the counter in front of me and smiles. She’s young, college-aged or so, her dark blonde hair pulled back in a merciless ponytail. “Can I help you?”
I haven’t been to Boston since I was a kid, and I half-expected everyone here to talk with a Boston accent. It surprises me she doesn’t. When she raises her eyebrows at me, I find my tongue.
“Yes, please, could I get the pizza and the happy hour margarita?”
She gives me a sad smile. “I’m sorry, happy hour ended half an hour ago.” My belly sinks. Damn it.
“Don’t worry about it,” a man’s voice says behind me. “I’ll get this one.”
I look over my shoulder to see a tall, well-dressed man giving me a smile. He’s kinda hot, in a deliberately tousled way. He’s probably a year or two older than my twenty-eight years and looks decent enough. “Haven’t seen you here before.”
“Oh, I’m...” I’m not sure how to respond. I’m starving, I’ve got hardly any money, and did he just offer to get me a drink or food? It can’t hurt, I reason. “Just traveling through town.”
And hopefully will be going on my merry way soon. Where to? I have no idea. What next? Same black hole of no idea. Where will the next stage of life bring me?
I ignore the feeling of desperation that threatens to shake my resolve and rattle my nerves. I swallow hard and force a smile. I’m not making any other decisions until tomorrow’s meeting.
“Welcome,” he says. My stomach chooses that exact minute to growl in the most unladylike way imaginable. I stifle an embarrassed snort, but he only smiles, flashing perfectly white teeth at me. “Hungry?”
I decide I don’t trust him. Maybe it’s because he’s standing too close or his tone is too familiar, or he smells really, really good, but there’s something about him that sets my nerves on edge.
“Starving,” I admit with a nod. “And thank you, but I’ll get my own drink and food.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says with a smile, but his eyes hold an icy edge. “I’m just passing through town, too.” He leans in close. His breath smells faintly of whiskey. His knuckles graze my wrist. “Tomorrow, we’ll both go our separate ways and neither will be the wiser. It’s on me.”
Is he… implying what I think he is? What happens in Boston stays in Boston?
My skin crawls with the implication, as the bartender places my frosty drink on a little napkin in front of me.
I want to leave, but I really, really want to eat. Maybe for once in my life I should do something drastic. I’m starving and broke, and he can’t make me do anything I don’t want him to.
“Oh?” I ask, reaching for my drink. My lips feel parched, my mouth a desert. I take a sip, and it tastes so good, I gulp it. I sigh. “And where’s that for you? Tomorrow, that is.”
He grins. “Heading to the airport in the morning.”
Ah. So he’s looking for a one-night stand and a little nightcap. Well, I’m not the girl for that party.
“Where to?” I ask. I’ll small talk him until I get my pizza. I’m not the kind of person to do this, but I’m going for broke here.
He gives me a smile I can only describe as predatory. “That’s a secret.”
“Ah. Well, I hope you have a good trip,” I finish lamely.
He sits on the stool beside me. Too close. His knee brushes mine, but it doesn’t feel nice. I want to push him away, and have just decided to do exactly that when the waitress slides a plate of steaming, bubbly pizza in front of me.
My mouth waters. I’m so hungry I’m weak.
I take a slice of pizza, and bite into it. “Oh, yum,” I say around a mouthful of cheesy, crispy pizza. I push the plate his way. “This is incredible.”
He smiles. “Go on. You eat it.” He shrugs and lowers his voice. “I’d much rather watch you eat.”
Ok, he’s creeping me out.
My hand trembles a little when I reach for the second slice. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to regret eating this next to him and taking any charity from him at all, even though technically I’ve done nothing wrong. I just don’t trust this guy.
Loud laughter comes from where the rich men entered earlier, and I’m not the only one to look their way. A table full of attractive, single women sits to my left, whispering amongst themselves and giggling, and even the bartender’s gaze has wandered there a few times. I can’t hear exactly what they’re saying, but the younger one who held the door for me says something that makes the rest of them bellow with laughter.