Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Shane is standing in the threshold of the bar, trying to push his way in.
I’m going to kill Mona.
My stomach drops. He’s so handsome I want to scrub my eyes and erase my mind of him. It’s not fair that I know he exists and I have to go on living as if he doesn’t. The white linen shirt rolled up his forearms makes his tan look deeper and the whites of his eyes brighter. Face tense and jaw a hard straight line, he scans the crowd, and when our eyes connect, he stops. I notice the emotion on his face because I know him, but I doubt anyone else would. It’s relief.
Chapter 14
Pushing through the crowd, Shane doesn’t break eye contact once as he heads for me. Meanwhile, filled with anticipation, I’ve stopped breathing. Air will not move in and out of my lungs. It’s a problem.
“Hi,” he says softly, sounding somewhat humbled. We’re starting in a good place at least.
“Hi,” I say in return, finally taking a deep breath.
Shane’s attention switches to Dustin who is now watching us with the beginnings of a frown on his face.
“Hey, thanks for keeping my girl busy,” he says to Dustin and sends me an almost-smile. “Sorry, I got stuck in traffic, shirina.” As loud as it is in here, his low rasp is a breeze on my neck that makes me shiver.
Shirina… I Googled it. It means sweetheart in one of the languages spoken in Afghanistan. My heart melts and my resolve to keep him on a shelf weakens. Damn you, Google. I could be walking around right now none the wiser, but no, now I know he’s been calling me sweetheart.
“Your girl?” Dustin repeats, justifiably skeptical. Never once did I mention I was waiting for a boyfriend.
“Yeah, my girl. Now if you’ll excuse us––”
Normally, this macho bullshit would make me roll my eyes. Except I’m really not interested in spending any more time with Dustin, and I don’t want him knowing that. Last thing I need is to get jacked with higher prices next time I need timber because of bad blood.
“Dustin, I am so sorry I didn’t mention it, but I assumed you knew.” How the funk would he assume that? Who knows, but the good news is Dustin doesn’t ask any questions.
“How much do I owe you for her drinks?” Shane asks the bartender.
“Already taken care of by Dustin,” Beth answers.
“How much do I owe you?” Shane asks Dustin.
“Nothin’, man. It’s just soda.” Dustin sounds bummed. I almost laugh.
Shane looks at me with a touch of humor. “Soda?”
“Dr. Pepper.” Picking up my half-finished glass, I take a sip from the straw and Shane watches me take a sip, his gaze flickering to my mouth.
Taking a gentle hold of my arm, he says, “Let’s go.”
I slide off the stool and he begins to pull me in the direction of the door. “Oh, hell, no. I am not going home. I haven’t been out in four years. FOUR years, Shane. I got dressed.” I sweep my hand down my body. “I did my hair.” I point to my head. “I did my makeup.” I bat my lashes. “I’m going to have a good time tonight. Thanks for your gallant service in saving me from eternal boredom, but you can go now.”
I can see the wheels turning in his thick, beautiful head as he stares at me. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll show you a good time.”
I laugh. I laugh hard. Is he for real? “Are you for real right now?”
“What’s so funny?” Taking my hand, he drags me toward the back of the bar.
“You showing anyone a good time. First, you would need to know what that feels like. And second, you would have to master the art of the smile, which you have yet to do. And at your advanced age, it’s not looking good.”
His head whips around, expression amused. At least, I hope I’m reading it right. “My advanced age?”
We reach the back of the bar, where the pool tables are set up, and he drops my hand. Eyes hooded and positively predatory, he says, “You don’t think I know what a good time feels like? You don’t think I can show you one? I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you make a crack about my age.”
I swallow. I may have taken it too far. He takes a wad of cash out of his wallet, the one attached to the chain, and places it on the table. “We’re next,” he says to the guys playing while his focus remains on me. “You ever play?”
“Pool?” Not really. Darts were more my thing when Jaime and I went out with the guys from the firehouse.
Shane nods.
“Yeah, I can play some.” Famous last words.
A few minutes later, Shane sets us up and tells me to break. Tentatively, I walk around to the top of the table, bend over, get my pool stick ready, and…