Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
The corners of his mouth slide up and his eyes crinkle at the corners. The smile of a man whose patience is running thin. “Left my phone in the truck.”
“Right. Okay.”
I hurry out into the cool night.
And run smack into a hard, warm, very tall male body.
“Easy, little one.” Firm hands grip my shoulders, gently holding me steady. “Where’s the fire?” A harsh crack of laughter follows the question.
I peer up into Jigsaw’s cheerful face.
My lips twist with amusement. “Right in there.”
He releases my shoulders but continues staring at me. “Where you going in such a hurry?”
“I got the feeling Rock didn’t want me to stick around.” I swallow hard and stare at his muddy boots. Where exactly were they tonight? “He, uh, wanted me to give you my number. So you can, uh, text or call me if you need something.”
I finally meet his intense eyes again.
“That right?” His voice is low, almost teasing. The corners of his mouth hike up and he flicks his gaze toward the door. “Yeah, follow me.”
He turns and walks toward the row of vehicles in the parking lot. Such a confident, casual swagger. As if he’s not up to something nefarious in the middle of the night.
“Uh, where?” I hurry to keep up with his long stride.
He slows his steps. “My phone’s in the truck.”
“So is Rock’s apparently,” I mutter.
A tall, bearded man’s leaning against the tailgate of the big diesel truck that pulled in earlier. He stiffly pulls away, standing straighter as we approach.
“You all right, motherclucker?” Jigsaw asks.
The man heaves out a long, annoyed breath. “How are you still this chipper?”
“I didn’t get stabbed,” Jigsaw answers in a cheerful tone. “Margot, this is my best friend, Rooster.”
The first introduction of the night.
Rooster sucks in a pained breath and holds out his hand. “How are you, Margot?” He grips my hand in a quick firm shake. “Sorry we got you up in the middle of the night. Appreciate your help, though.”
“Of course.” I blink and drop my gaze to his side. “Are you okay? Did you really get stabbed?”
He flicks an annoyed glance at Jigsaw. “I’ll be fine.” He dips his chin and casts a friendly look my way. “Thank you, darlin’.”
“I can get you gauze or we should at least clean it,” I insist.
His expression doesn’t change. “I’m okay.”
I stare at Jigsaw, maybe he’ll talk some sense into his friend.
As if he understands the questions in my eyes, Jigsaw smirks. “He’s a stubborn one.” He rests his hand on my elbow and steers me toward the passenger side door. “Let me grab my phone.”
Phone. Right. I’m supposed to give Jigsaw my number and then get lost.
Jigsaw turns toward me, standing in the open door of the truck. Faint light from the interior glows over Jigsaw’s tall, imposing frame, making him look both sinister and sexy. “Got your phone?” he asks.
“What?” I shove my hand in my front pocket. “Yes, but—”
“I want you to take my number.” He meets my eyes and one corner of his mouth curves. “In case you ever need anything.”
Ever?
“Okay.” I step closer until we’re almost touching.
He leans in, his arm pressing against my shoulder, his heat folding over my skin. The scent of woods and earth surrounds me, and I fight the urge to lean my head on his chest.
“Here.” He tugs my phone out of my hands and works his thumbs over the screen. His phone buzzes a second later, the screen lighting up with the words Last Responder.
I break into wild laughter. It’s a common joke in the mortuary business and I’m impressed he came up with it. “I have a T-shirt of the grim reaper driving a hearse with Last Responder on it.” I nod at the phone.
He chuckles and hands me back my phone. “I need to see you in that.”
Pleasure rolls through my body, perking up parts I thought were dormant. Are we flirting? Or is he pretending to be interested in order to distract me, so I don’t ask questions about what his brothers are doing here tonight?
The thought steals any joy that’d been bubbling inside me.
“Everyone gets a nickname,” he says, throwing another breath-stealing grin at me.
“Huh?” I blink at him.
He holds out his phone and shimmies it from side to side in his hand. “Well, everyone important to the club gets a nickname.”
Important to the club.
Wait a minute. I’m important to his club?
Duh, of course I am. His club wants after-hours access to my family’s crematorium.
I need sleep.
“Is it okay if I save your number under Jigsaw?” I peer up at him and hold out my phone.
“Sure. It sounds better than ‘random dipshit.’”
I explode with laughter. Twice in five minutes, he’s made me laugh. This must be a record.
“Do you want something to drink?” I gesture toward the house. “For you and the guys?” I hurry to add so I don’t sound desperate.