Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
“Sarah, wait!” I hiss as I hop out and chase after her. But by the time I reach her, she’s already standing right in front of him.
“IDs?” the man asks, looking suspiciously at us.
“Yeah, can you tell Jared that Sarah and Erika are here to see him?” she says with the confidence of Hillary Clinton oozing from her pores. The bouncer looks at her for a second, chewing his gum, and for a second, I’m sure he’s just going to tell us to get lost. But to my surprise, he raises his chin and licks his teeth in reply.
“Wait here.”
With that, he vanishes inside. Sarah turns to me and flashes me the proudest smile full of teeth. “See? I told you it’ll work!”
“Yeah, well, we have yet to see–”
Before I can finish, the door to the bar opens, and the bouncer appears again. He steps aside and motions to both of us.
“Come inside.”
Neither of us say anything but just follow his gesture and step into the bar. It’s pretty full with a crowd of people quite obviously much older than us tonight. Sarah instantly spots Jared, grabs me by the hand, and tugs me through the horde of people over to him and slams her palm down on the bar top to get his attention.
“Two shots! Whatever you want, just make ‘em strong,” she says. “This bitch just got cheated on by her dick of a boyfriend.”
Several commiserating sounds come up from the crowd around us, and Jared immediately makes a face—the face similar to the ones he’s made that have always made me wish I had a brother like him.
“Damn, Erika, I’m sorry,” he says as he grabs two shot glasses and fills them with something dark. “You want me to kill him? I could kill him.”
“Yes!” Sarah replies.
“No.” I shake my head. “He’s not worth it.”
“That’s true,” Sarah agrees. “Bottoms up!”
We take our shots, and I try to pretend my first reflex isn’t to cough and hack my throat out. The truth is, I was never a partier in high school, and I’ve never gotten used to the taste or feel of alcohol.
“Still, we can’t have more men walking the earth who are just going to cheat on more girls and break their hearts, can we?” An unknown, male voice from behind me causes me to turn, and I find myself staring down a stunningly gorgeous man dressed business casual, no tie, shirt collar open, one hand just sort shaking the glass with what’s left of a cocktail.
“Holy shit, Erika,” Sarah whispers in my ear, just loud enough for me to hear.
He looks like he could have just stepped out of the pages of a men’s magazine or maybe owns a men’s magazine that he can’t be bothered to model for because he’s already too wealthy. He’s definitely older than I am and has a manly look but also has a youthful charm to him at the same time. It’s an incredible combination, like a salted caramel dessert that doesn’t sound like it would work on paper but tastes absolutely delicious once you dig in.
“No, I guess we can’t,” I reply after Sarah pokes me in the kidney, making me realize I haven’t responded to him and have just been gawking at his good looks like a pre-teen at a Harry Styles concert. “But what does that say about you, Mr. Random Gentleman? That you’re okay going around murdering guys who act like assholes?”
“Protecting women, we could call it,” he replies, nearly leveling me with the charm that exudes from him as he grins. “Or does that make me sound too much like a white knight?”
“Lil bit.” I smirk back, holding up my thumb and forefinger with nothing but a gap between them.
He smiles and stands, and I nearly gasp as I realize just how tall he is. It wasn’t obvious before as he was seated on a barstool, but now he’s towering over both Sarah and me. He must be at least six-four and in incredible shape, like a man who spends every day at the gym or was born with the world’s greatest genetics—or both.
He also smells quite nice, and not in the men’s-designer-cologne kind of way either. It’s just him. His scent is invading my nostrils and causing my pheromones (is that the right word?) to come alight, along with my hormones. With every sniff I take, my nose starts to tell me to prepare myself for a whiff of something I don’t want to smell—body odor of an unfamiliar person—but it never gets to that point. I relish what I’m inhaling the entire time.
What is this? What is happening right now? Seriously.
“Okay, I’ll dial it back a little,” the man says. Still smiling, he extends his hand to me. “Malcom. But people close to me call me Mal.”