Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Shiv?” I ask anxiously, making sure I have the right guy.
“Call me Thane, babe,” he says with a cute smile, and my face drops, the blood draining from my body so fast I feel faint as recognition breeds inside me. Those sapphire eyes, and strong cheeks. I know him.
“Thane?” My voice wavers with so much emotion I can barely talk. Is it really him? He looks so different than when we were just teenagers.
His face goes blank and he looks me over, a flare of remembrance flashes in his eyes.
“Delilah?” My name falls from his lips with uncertainty and it takes everything I have not to gasp with surprise.
“Oh my god,” I whisper to myself. It is him. It’s Thane, the boy who took my virginity and changed my life. But I can’t help but notice a scar from the corner of his right lip fading up into his cheek until finally disappearing right before his ear. It looks like someone tried to give him a Glasco smile, that’s new.
His lips slowly pull into a smirk but I suddenly feel defensive and cross my arms. Who would have thought I would run into Thane five years later states away from home. After that night in his truck, he disappeared and I couldn’t find him. I looked and searched and asked around for months to no avail. I would have never guessed he was in Georgia.
“I had no idea it was you,” he sincerely explains, tossing the rag on the counter.
“Me either, Shiv.” I make a point to call him by the name I was given over the phone and not his real name. That’s why I never would have thought for a second that he was anyone else.
He shrugs, looking away into the showroom. “It’s my road name. Real name is Thane Hendrix.”
“Right,” I draw out, his last name sexy but I never would have guessed it either. Standing in the lobby, a layer of awkwardness falls between us. I haven’t seen or talked to him since that night five years ago. There were many times I wanted to find him, to look him up, but I always talked myself out of it. I didn’t know what to say and figured he forgot about me. I’m pretty sure only I was hanging on to that summer night in his truck.
“I wouldn’t forget a girl like you, D.”
My eyes widen at his remark, it’s as if he’s in my head reading my thoughts.
“Your brother wouldn’t let me.” He turns his head to the side, pointing to a silver scar slashed across his face, and my mouth parts. “He caught me the next morning before we left town and gave me something to remember you by, after it healed and turned into a scar, everyone started calling me Shiv after that.”
Tension builds between us as does the temperature, a sweat forming on my back. It looks like he was left with a scar on his face by my brother, and I was marred with one on my heart. My brother hunting him down and cutting him up is news to me. He must have done it with an improvised blade or something giving Thane the nickname Shiv. This whole situation has me second guessing if I should run away now. This is a lot to take in.
Opening my mouth to defend my brother, but I stop myself. There’s nothing I can say except this is why I’m single. My brother always chases guys away and I just never know if he’s doing it out of the goodness of his heart or because my parents told him to.
“I guess it’s the price you pay sleeping with a club brat, huh?” He lifts his head, his teeth nipping his bottom lip as he looks down at me. Even during this tense situation, I find him attractive, I’m just drawn to the guy on levels I can’t understand.
“I don’t know about that. Besides, my father is the president now.”
“Ah, a club princess, are we?” Lowering his chin, his devious eyes smile and his lips pull into a dopy smirk. I can’t help but stare at his face, his jawline and the cold color of his eyes. It’s all so painfully familiar. I ran from LA trying to bury wounds and find my freedom and I ran smack dab into my past.
Wait, he called me a damn princess. I hate that. “I’m no princess, believe me,” I bite back, letting him know right off the bat there is nothing elegant and fragile about me.
Pointing to his cut, I say, “Vice president is a pretty big role.”
He looks down at his own worn-out patch, the stitching in the leathers loose and the white background dirty. It looks like he’s been busy getting into trouble wearing it.
“Yeah, I guess things change.”