Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
"I'm not an alcoholic," I assure her.
She doesn't bother looking in my direction now that I'm speaking to her, but I know her eyes were on me a few seconds ago.
She spins her drink in her hands, and I have to dip my eyes down and check that left ring finger. It's a habit, something I didn't do once many years ago, and it led to a massive shitstorm I'd rather forget.
For some reason, the scoff that escapes her lips makes me smile.
"I'm having a problem at work," I say, attempting to explain why I'm here tonight, but should I feel the need to make excuses?
I'm grown. I pay my taxes on time. My work ethic is second to none. I hold doors open for everyone.
I'm a good guy.
"It's only my third beer."
She shrugs, and as much as it should upset me, it doesn't.
She doesn't seem to be like most of the other women that come in here. She isn't fucking me with her eyes or trying to saddle right up next to me. She hasn't given me a fake laugh or pressed her palm to my forearm—all things flirty women seem to do.
She's really pretty. Her eyelashes are long, a blanket on her cheeks when she blinks. Her hair is pulled all to one side, giving me the perfect view of her neck.
She looks familiar. I'm sure we were close to the same grade in high school, but I know for a fact she wasn't one of the cheerleaders. I was a jock in school, so I knew most of those girls better than I probably should've.
"I've been having a little business trouble myself," she says, surprising me with her confession.
I was certain she was going to shrug me off and leave.
"Maybe it's something I can help with?" I offer because it just comes naturally to attempt to help others despite needing help myself.
"That's... kind," she says when she darts her eyes in my direction. "But no, thank you."
"Really?" I say, raising an eyebrow and giving her a smirk.
Instead of playing into the interest I'm showing, she curls her lip when she looks at me.
"I told myself I wasn't going to worry about work tonight. I just want a few hours to forget the day. Plus, you just told me that only junior high school boys eat my food."
I chew the inside of my cheek, wondering what she would be like completely riled up. I saw a hint of it a few minutes ago. I have to admit to liking the heat that stained her cheeks when she was repeating what my message to her was like, and from the sounds of it, it was probably verbatim, meaning she had either listened to it more than a few times or she's got a fantastic memory. Either way, she was passionate about it, and I like that in a woman.
I decide to press my luck, wanting to watch the heat rise on that perfect throat of hers once again.
"I saw a post in the Lindell social media group that the school cafeteria was hiring."
The way her eyes narrow in my direction makes me think that maybe I've taken things a little too far, but she grips her drink tighter rather than throwing it in my face. Maybe I haven't lost her completely yet.
"I'm not talking about work with you," she mutters, and it's then that I see the real despondency on her face.
Shit.
I've played this all wrong.
I scoot closer, knowing how easily people around here pick up on conversations and then discuss them when buying stamps at the post office.
"I can think of a few things that would help us both take our minds off of work."
"Like shots?" she asks with a quick scoff.
"Like getting out of here," I offer.
She looks at me like I'm speaking a foreign language for three breaths, and then I see it the second that realization hits her.
"Wh-what?" she asks, and I can see her mind working, and it's not going to go in my favor.
She stands, lifting her drink and draining the last of it.
"My drink is on you," she says before she starts to walk away, but to my surprise, she stops and throws me a look over her shoulder. "The offer only stands for the next couple of minutes, Mac Hammer."
And then she walks right out of the bar.
I don't worry that I drop too much money on the bar top before chasing after her.
I fully expect to see her hauling ass out of the parking lot, getting a good laugh at me, but she's just outside, her face turned up toward the night sky. When she spots me, she walks toward my truck, and I shuffle past her to open the door for her.
She's silent when I climb into the driver's seat. If I hadn't seen her walk into the bar and only have one drink, I'd think she was too drunk to make this choice tonight.