Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Was he even able to drive a car anymore? He could barely walk.
But he could talk.
“Ruthie, you didn’t get me a cup yet, did’ja darlin’?” The old man asked.
Ruthie smiled at him. “No, Mr. Adams. I just got here myself. My man decided to make me late.”
I felt my chest expand as she called me her ‘man.’
I’d never really had anyone in my life call me their own and it felt really good to hear someone be possessive of me.
“Oh, did he get cheeky with you to make you late?” Mr. Adams asked teasingly, walking stiffly over to the metal counter where all the drinks were being held.
He pulled the half done coffee pot out of its holder and held his shaking hand underneath the flow of coffee still pouring out of the pot.
Once he had it filled, he replaced the pot with surprising agility and placed the paper cup onto the counter where he proceeded to fill it up with so much sugar that I was fairly sure it could be nothing but sludge at the bottom.
“He just complains a lot about my safety,” Ruthie said, turning a wink on me before she went over to Mr. Adams and put a lid on his coffee cup. “Seems SEALS are overly cautious.”
It was almost as if she’d done it so many times that it was a sort of routine for them.
“Being safe isn’t a bad thing. When I was in the war, I came home doing a lot of things differently. Like I used to check my locks five times a night. God forbid I hear a creak I couldn’t explain, which meant I was doing the lock thing again. My guns were always at the ready, too. My wife, bless her sweet heart, hated it. But she loved me and lived with it, which is what I assume you’re doing by that smile on your face,” Mr. Adams said.
Her eyes locked with mine, startled.
I couldn’t say that it was fear in her eyes, per se, but it was something.
Hope? Nervousness?
Maybe them all.
I didn’t know.
What I did know was that what I felt for Ruthie went beyond just the physical.
While I’d been pinned down in Iran, I’d had a lot of time do some much needed thinking.
Thinking about my life.
How I wanted things to go for me. Who I wanted in my life. What I wanted to do for the rest of it.
But I had to survive first.
And there were times in the last nine weeks where I wasn’t sure I was going to.
But Ruthie had been at the front of my mind through it all. It’d been her face I’d seen when I’d nearly lost my life when I was hightailing it out of a dark alley, a barrage of gunfire following the team out.
We’d been ambushed.
Soldiers were at the ready the moment we’d stepped foot onto the street at that flea bitten motel.
We’d never even seen the pregnant ex-wife, nor the man who’d brought her to that cesspool sandbox of a country.
“You gonna bring that ice over here or do I need to do it myself, son?”
My eyes snapped back from where the blank stare I’d been giving the sign above the coke machine.
“Yeah, I’ll get it,” I said, bringing the bucket to the machine and pouring it in the hole at the top of the machine where Ruthie indicated.
“It’s more fun to watch her climb up on the ladder and do that herself,” Mr. Adams said.
I tossed him a grin.
“She does have a fine ass,” I agreed.
Ruthie gasped.
He winked, but his face smoothed to somber as he turned to Ruthie.
“I say, you should really control this man,” Mr. Adams said as he started shuffling to the front door. “I’ll pay you tomorrow. I forgot my wallet in the truck, and it’d take me longer to go out there and get it than I want. I don’t move like I once did. And the fish are gonna be biting soon if I don’t hurry.”
With that he slipped out into the still predawn air, leaving the jingling of the door in his wake.
“He was nice,” I said, taking the bucket back into the storage room.
“Will you grab me a box of straws off the top shelf?” She yelled.
I grabbed the box and started back outside, but stilled when I saw the man coming into the store.
He looked shady as fuck.
Long shaggy hair. Wild eyes.
Dirty grunge covered jeans, tennis shoes that looked like they should’ve been retired long ago. And the shirt was so covered in filth that I wanted to cringe.
When was the last time the man took a bath?
Or washed his clothes?
Not waiting to see what he wanted, I walked back out, placing the box on the counter next to Ruthie who still had her back to the customer as she straightened up the straws and cups in the dispenser in front of her.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
He jerked, surprised that I’d actually spoken to him.
“Yeah,” he said licking his lips. “You got a dollar you can spare?”
I reached into my back pocket, withdrew my wallet, and fished a dollar out of it and folded it in two before handing it to him.
Although I knew what he was going to do before I even saw him move, I still gave him the benefit of the doubt.
He reached forward and tried to snatch the entire wallet out of my hand, but I snapped my arm back and placed myself in front of Ruthie before aiming the gun that suddenly appeared in my hand pointed at the man’s face.
He froze.
“Don’t,” he whispered.
“Give me a reason,” I growled.
Ruthie slowly turned, but stayed plastered to my back, not even peeking her head over my shoulder to get a look.
Good girl.
I could feel her softness sinking into me, and I hated that she was there right then.
What would’ve happened had I not been there?
“I need it, man. I just need it,” he chattered, arm rising to scratch at his neck viciously.
I shook my head. “Go to the hospital. Get yourself cleaned up.”