Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
I’m starting to notice that people are staring at the man behind me when they walk in. One man asks him for his autograph, and it piques my interest even more, making me realize that I’m obviously standing in line in front of someone famous.
I pay for my water and walk out of the store when the man in question catches up with me. “Hey.”
I stop walking and turn toward him. I mean to smile, but I’m sure it looks awkward. I’m not used to talking to random men. “Hey.”
He’s walking toward me, and before I realize it, he grabs me around the waist and hauls me to the side. I was standing right behind a car that was backing out. I’m breathing heavily, and he doesn’t let me go, even as the people roll down the window and apologize.
My feet are dangling as he holds me, my arm and water smashed between us. “You okay?”
I nod because there’s no way I can say a single thing. Our faces are only inches apart. His dark brown eyes are brooding, and my fingers itch to touch the stubble on his chin. This man is lethal and should come with a warning label. I put a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m good. You can put me down now.”
He grunts, which I’m learning is his way of communicating. He sets me down on my feet but doesn’t let me go. “What’s your name?”
“Uh, Violet,” I stutter.
His phone dings, and he pulls it out of his designer jeans with one hand, still not letting me go. I push on his chest, and even though he lets me move away, he doesn’t completely relinquish his hold on me. He stares at his phone, blows out a breath, and puts it back in his pocket. I should force him to let me go, get away or something, but instead I ask, “Bad news?”
He shrugs. “Another caterer can’t fit me in.”
Walk away, Violet. Walk away. I put one hand on my hip and with the other I bounce the water bottle against my thigh. “What do you need a caterer for?”
“I sponsor a program where we grant wishes for terminally ill children or children that have been sick for a while.”
My stance softens, and I nod my head, wanting him to continue. “So a child that just finished his cancer treatment last week requested to have dinner at my house tonight. I got an idea from his mom for all his favorite foods, but the chef backed out.”
Don’t do it. Don’t do it, Violet. You’re trying to get out of the kitchen for a few days. “Who are you?” I ask and realize as soon as it comes out it sounds rude. “I mean, the way people are staring at you, and you’re giving autographs, I’m assuming you’re somebody famous. Not like a killer, rapist...” I blush. “I mean, if I offer to help, I’m not going to disappear with my body parts ending up in some dumpster.”
He turns me, and we start to walk toward his car. He stops beside it. “You’d help me... just like that?”
“Uh, you didn’t answer my question. Who are you? And yeah, but I need you to answer the part on whether you’re some killer.”
He laughs, and it completely transforms his face. He was hot when he was all broody. Now, my God he’s just too much. “Do you watch football?”
I shake my head. “Like on TV? No.”
He laughs like what I said was funny, but I wasn’t trying to be funny. “Yeah, on television. My name is Josh Chambers. I play for the Jasper Eagles.”
I stare at him blankly, and he goes on. “I went first in the draft. Running back.”
Man, I guess I should know who he is. He sounds good, and by looking at him, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to be on the opposing team, even if I did have a helmet and pads on. “I’m so sorry. I have no clue. But I mean, good for you.”
He smirks. “Okay, so you don’t know me... but you’re going to come to my house and cook dinner? You know that’s not smart... to meet men you don’t know and go to their house.”
It’s then I get offended. I mean, I’m trying to help him out. Now he’s making it sound like either I’m stalking him because I do know who he is or I’m some child that needs reprimanded. My face heats as I think about him punishing me, bending me over his lap and spanking me... Oh my God, what is wrong with me?
I come back to the conversation at hand. “Fine. I’ll give you a recipe. I mean if you really are feeding some kid that just finished chemo, I can walk you through it.”