Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“I’m not hiding. I work there. And I’m expected back any minute, so unless you want Mr. Reynolds to rearrange your face, I suggest you lift your foot.”
“Mr. Reynolds,” he drawled. “Is that what you call him as he fucks you? How often does he have you on your knees? I bet he likes it like that.”
His tone and his questions were so filled with hate that a long shiver went down my spine. He wasn’t going to stop, and I knew I had to take matters into my own hands. Good thing I had practice.
I lifted my free hand and ran it up his leg, feeling his jolt of surprise as I touched him. “Is that what you like?” I asked. “Being called mister?” I moved my hand higher, fighting the revulsion I felt.
His face went lax as I slowly stood, letting my fingers drift higher. I inched closer, keeping my voice low. “You like girls on their knees in front of you, Wes?”
“Yes,” he grunted.
“You know what I like?” I whispered.
His eyes drifted shut as I ran my fingers up his thighs. I was pretty sure he was getting hard, but I was also certain I understood part of his aggression now. He wasn’t packing much heat. I only hoped my aim was good.
“What?”
I slowly rose to my feet. “I like bringing assholes down a peg or two.”
His eyes flew open just as my knee met his groin. The exploding pain showed on his face, the shock in his gaze. He stumbled, falling to the ground, clutching his groin. I reached down and grabbed the envelope, hissing as his foot kicked out, catching me in the arm. I ignored the flash of pain and headed to my car as fast as I could.
“Have a good day,” I called, gunning the engine and getting out of the parking lot in a hurry. He was still lying on the gravel as I checked my rearview mirror.
It was a job well done.
I did the shopping, feeling oddly jumpy, even though it was broad daylight and the store wasn’t busy. After I was done, I drove to a little clothing store Mary had said had some nice things, and I bought a couple of blouses and a new skirt. The woman who ran it, Sarah, was very chatty and helpful. She was pleased to know Mary had sent me. There were lots of articles of clothing that caught my eye, but I didn’t want to linger, and I told her I would come back with Mary another time. I used the groceries in the car as an excuse, but the truth was, I was feeling jittery after my run-in with Wes.
I stopped at Mary’s, grateful she was out, and left the milk in her fridge, then drove to Maxx’s. I felt better simply pulling up in front of the building, knowing Maxx was inside and close. I headed to the garage, walking through the wide doors, feeling relief. Brett was working on a car, and he waved as I walked through. Maxx was at the desk, writing something. He looked up as I strolled in, trying desperately to appear casual.
I slid the envelope on the desk. “Petty cash, the grocery receipt, and the change. You bought Mary some milk.”
He grunted. “Holy shit, it’s been crazy.”
“Well, holy moly, why didn’t you call? I would have come back.”
He pushed off from the desk. “Because I gave you the day off. We managed.” He picked up the envelope and brushed it off, looking at me quizzically.
“I dropped it. Sorry.”
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
He studied me, then let it go. “Brett filled up the propane tank. We’re going to barbecue dinner, so you don’t have to worry about it. I found some steaks in the freezer.”
“Oh. That’s a nice surprise. I’ll make a salad, and I got some new potatoes we can have. Easy peasy.”
“Great. Then you can tell me about this website thing.”
“All right.” I paused. “I need some help carrying the groceries in.”
“Sure.” He followed me to the car, lifting out the bags. “Peaches?” he asked as I grabbed the small basket.
“I was going to make cobbler.”
“I love cobbler.”
“Well then, it’s your lucky day.”
He followed me into the house, setting down the bags.
“Did you fall or something while you were out?”
My hand stilled as I opened one of the bags. “Sorry?”
“You have dust on your ass and down your leg.”
“Oh, um, yeah, I tripped in the parking lot of the bank.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Nope.”
He eyed me speculatively. “All right. You get stuff prepped. Brett and I will handle the cooking.”
I sniffed. “Will it be edible?”
I wanted to rile him up a little. Make him come closer. My comment did it. He stalked over to me, crowding me against the counter.
“I grill well, I’ll have you know.”