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)
“Hey, listen,” Brandon says, leaning in. “Keep your eyes and ears open tonight. I saw a couple of guys carrying, and although it could be nothing, it’s better you know.”
“What do they look like?” I suddenly hear, a deep, bossy rasp coming from somewhere over my shoulder.
Brandon isn’t fazed by anything, and he’s definitely not fazed by Shane.
“Hessians––motorcycle gang,” Brandon tells him.
“I saw a couple in town a week ago.”
“I’ve seen you at the ranch, right?” Brandon asks, extending a hand to greet Shane like a normal person. “Hi, Brandon Markey.”
Shane shakes his hand. “Shane Hughes. Yeah, you have. You’re the farrier?”
“My dad does all the rescue animals at Mother Goose,” Darla chirps.
Shane smiles. His lips actually shape into a soft, genuine smile when he looks at Darla Markey, and I swear I almost get pregnant right there in the middle of the fairgrounds.
“Your dad’s a good man,” Shane tells her.
The line for the teacup ride moves and the Markeys are next. “Catch you guys later,” Brandon say. “Have a good time.”
“Bye, Darla. Have fun.” I wave.
“Say hi to Legend and Hazel for me,” Darla shouts as her father nudges her onto the ride.
“I will,” I shout back.
The silence is deafening. Shane stands next to me wearing a white t-shirt, dark jeans, and boots like he’s a throwback to 1950s movie icons and I’m starting to hate him for it.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to the fair. It’s still a free country, isn’t it?”
“Depends on what you mean by free. Am I free to do whatever I want?”
“You are. And I’m free to make sure you do it safely.”
Oh, no. Not this again. I’m so hot I’m starting to sweat. Placing a hand on my forehead, I test the temperature. I take a deep breath.
“Look, Shane,” I start quietly. I don’t want to draw any attention to us. “I can appreciate what you’re trying to do here. I don’t want to argue or debate with you. I genuinely like you. You are a good man and I respect you. But this dance,” I motion with my finger between us, “is tiresome.
“I know you don’t want me.” I pause to hammer home the reality of this and find his face as opaque and hard to read as always. Nothing is getting through. “I get that you’re going through whatever you’re going through after the divorce. That you miss your ex-wife and probably still love her. I respect that… Now I need you to respect my wishes. I explained to you where I’m at. I don’t need a bodyguard. I need a… I need a friend and a lover. I need a partner. I need what I need. Have I sufficiently scared you? Can you go now?”
His gaze roams my face, taking in every detail. But I still have no idea what he’s thinking because he won’t let me see it. It’s infuriating.
“I’m not going anywhere, shirina.”
“I’m not your sweetheart.”
“Are you hungry?”
Seriously? Has he heard a word I said? I put a lot into that speech. “No, I’m not––I mean yes, I’m hungry. But I’m on a date, so I can’t… go have food with you.”
He looks left and right. “You’re on a date?” He nods. “Where is he?”
I start walking because this is not going anywhere I want it to go. He doesn’t miss a step; he’s right behind me the entire way. I make a hard right turn when I smell funnel cakes. At the booth, I order and hold out the cash to pay for mine, but he beats me to the punch and pays the guy making them before I can.
“You can’t buy my food. I’m on a date.”
I stuff the funnel cake in my mouth while he watches. I’m too far gone to care what he thinks of me, and no, I’m not a dainty eater.
Once in a while he breaks eye contact to scan the crowd for this supposed threat Brandon spoke of, the motorcycle gang. Then he returns to looking down his nose at me.
“You need protein. All that sugar isn’t good for you.”
“Really?” I say, staring up at him with my cheeks stuffed with funnel cake. “How else can I rearrange my life to make it more acceptable to your impossibly high standards?”
“You could be less of a wise ass. You can start there.”
Oh, he did not just go there…
“Okay, this is…” I gesture with my hands. “We’re not doing this. I’m going to see Johnny now. At his booth. He’s my date. You cannot come with me.”
I walk away again and Shane follows. He hangs back a little, but I know he’s literally a step away. At one point, I stop, because I’m not sure which direction the Barrios booth is and he nearly runs me over.
“Can you step off?” I grind out between my molars.