Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I don’t want to think about the confrontation Brian and I would have had if Duke hadn’t swooped in and threatened to kick his ass.
“You can hire me to be your bodyguard.” He chuckles, removing the sunglasses from his face.
“Take all that off. You look so stupid.”
I have both my legs out of the car, purse in my hand, ready to go back to my own vehicle. When I look back over my shoulder at Duke, he’s staring at me with those big blue eyes—without the cap and the wig.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hmm.”
“That guy was a creep. Your next date won’t be anything like that. It might not be perfect, but it won’t be anything like that.”
“I know.” But that doesn’t mean I won’t be a hair bit gun-shy, and he and I both know it. It took a lot for me to come out tonight, and I wind up out with a complete douche canoe.
There’s no doubt I’ll be spreading the word as far and wide as I can that Brian Campbell is a dangerous guy.
I shiver.
“You’re cold—better get home.”
I nod. “You following me?”
“Uh, yeah. I got lost g’ttin' here. I have no idea where the fuck I am.”
He got lost getting here? “It’s seven miles away.”
His chin rises. “I don’t trust the directions.”
I laugh as I close the passenger side door, walking slowly to my car, fully aware that his eyes are on me the same way his fingers were in my vagina this morning, tongue in my mouth, and stop thinking about it, Posey!
Before starting the car, I shoot Kate, Molly, and Anna a group text.
Me: Worst date everrrr!!!!! Brian Campbell is a P-I-G. On my way home, will text more later.
I set the phone in the center console before starting the ignition and putting it in drive.
12
duke
Reasons tonight was the worst:
I got totally taken advantage of by the crotchety old woman next door, who knew damn well I was going to pay her whatever price she wanted to borrow her car.
Posey had the shit scared out of her by the dickhead I knew was going to be a dickhead.
I hate being right about the second one.
She’s locked in her room—or at least, the door is closed—after we arrived home, her door closing shortly after she disappeared up the stairs.
I set the bag of chicken remnants on the counter, along with my mullet wig, baseball cap, and sunglass disguise.
That idiot hadn’t recognized me even after Posey used my name—thank God.
Hadn’t even looked at my face.
Hadn’t had the balls, I don’t think.
Well. The good news is he won’t ever bother her again. I guarantee that.
I lean against the counter, scratching at the stubble on my chin, thinking about everything I’ve seen tonight. I watched as she fussed over her hair and listened to her tell me how nervous she was because she hasn’t had a date in months.
Fucker had to go and ruin the whole dang thing for her by being a horny piece of shit.
My instincts didn’t take me to Wylee’s for broasted chicken and wings—my instincts had me borrowing that old lady’s car because something felt wrong. And I hate meddling in other people’s lives, but I had to make sure; plus, I’d get dinner out of it despite having a fridge full of food.
My instincts should win a goddamn award for being freaking lit.
I pat myself on the back.
I’d sat in that parking lot for what felt like hours, at one point going inside for my dinner. It came in a bag, obviously, and the To-Go counter was within spying distance of Posey and the Sleaze, but I couldn’t linger long; people were gawking at me as if I were an unwelcome stranger they didn’t want hanging around.
Then again, it could have just been the mullet and the sunglasses.
I’d gone back to my car with the bag, hungry as hell and needing something to occupy my time while I spied, justifying the creep factor as one part genuine concern—the other part genuine boredom.
I’d make a terrible private investigator, grease from the meal all over the steering wheel and my mouth, barely paying attention to the action in front of me until my target had walked off the back porch, scumbag trailing along after her.
I watched.
Like a hawk.
Considered it an innocent goodbye until I’d seen the bastard put a hand on her, throwing open the car door before I’d thought twice about it. I might be a big dude, but I was light on my feet and fast.
Too fast for him to know what was hitting him…
“Put me down, you motherfucker,” he cursed at me, kicking his feet out and hitting me in the kneecap like a spoiled child.
A terrified big child.
“Ah, ah, ah—be nice. I watched you mishandlin’ Ms. Kettner from my car and thought you might like a taste of your own medicine.” I paused. “Were you plannin’ on walkin’ off with her?”