Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Pardon?” I come out of my thoughts and focus on him.
“I need to eat. You want Chinese or a burger?”
“Chinese works,” I agree then watch him pull out his phone, press a few buttons, and put it to his ear.
“What do you want?”
“Sesame chicken, fried rice, and an eggroll.”
“Got it.” He places the order then gives them the address to deliver. Once he hangs up, he takes another shot, and I narrow my eyes when the white ball hits the stripped one into the pocket at the corner.
“Did you just cheat?”
“No,” he denies, taking another shot, this one putting the eight ball into the pocket and winning the game.
“You did. You just took a shot and it wasn’t your turn. Then you took another and won,” I accuse, resting my hand on my hip, and his lips twitch.
“Babe, I didn’t cheat.”
“You totally did,” I say, looking at him then the table. “You cheated so that I didn’t win.”
“Did not.” His eyes scan me, my hand on my hip, and my tapping foot, and his lips twitch into a smile.
“Did too, Harlen… Wait. What’s your last name?”
“MacCabe,” he answers, and I blink. “Full name’s Harlen Alistair MacCabe.”
“Harlen Alistair MacCabe,” I repeat. Wow, okay, a totally cool, totally badass name. I can actually picture him overlooking a castle in Scotland on the back of a giant horse, going into battling with a sword in his hand, wearing a kilt and making that shit look, again, badass.
“My family’s from Scotland. Dad was a second generation, and Mom was third.”
“Was?” I whisper, and his eyes flash.
“Lost both my parents when I was fifteen.”
At his words my heart seizes in my chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“Long time ago,” he says, but I can see pain in his eyes, pain he doesn’t try to hide from me.
“Still, I’m sorry, Harlen,” I continue whispering, feeling my knees shake and my eyes burn. I have no idea how he is still standing. I know one day I will have to face losing my parents, but I pray every day that time is a long way from now.
“Don’t cry, Angel,” he tells me, getting closer and wrapping his warm hand around the side of my neck. “Not for me.”
Shaking my head, I close my eyes and pull in a deep breath. “I’m good,” I lie, opening my eyes back up. Then, without thinking, I close the distance between us and slide my arms around his waist. It takes a second, but his arms close around me then his chin rests on top of my head.
“So damn sweet.” Those words rumble against my ear and my hold tightens.
“Yo!”
Hearing that, I jump and release Harlen quickly. So quickly, I almost fall over on my wedge heels. Luckily, Harlen wraps a hand around my waist, preventing me from going down. Unlucky for me, I’d know that “yo” anywhere.
“Fuck,” Harlen mutters just loud enough for me to hear, and I look to see his eyes on my dad, who’s looking between the two of us.
“Dad.” I walk across the space separating us and wrap my arms around him. His arms close around me then his lips touch the top of my head. “What are you doing here?” I ask, tipping my head back to look up at him.
“Came to talk to Harlen.” His arms tighten before he asks, “What are you doing here?”
“Learning to play pool.” I smile at him then loosen my hold and step back. “Is everything okay?”
“Not sure.” He looks over at Harlen, who’s watching us with his feet spread wide and his arms crossed over his chest. My heart sinks when I realize my mom probably talked to him about Harlen. I love my father, but he’s protective to the point of being overbearing. I have never dated a guy he’s liked, and he’s always made that perfectly clear, which means the guys I’ve dated tend to disappear, never having the balls to stick around. I get it; my dad’s scary, covered in tattoos, tall, and fit. Even at his age, he doesn’t look like someone you fuck with. Still, it would be nice to someday meet a guy who likes me enough to weather the storm that is my father.
“Dad.” His eyes come to me. “Don’t,” I whisper, and his brows pull together. “Please don’t.” I shake my head, holding his gaze.
Hearing Harlen’s phone ring, I turn to look at him as he comes toward us, pulling out his wallet. Holding money out toward me, he mutters, “Food’s out front. You mind getting it for us?”
“I…” I look between him and my dad and cannot imagine what will happen if I leave. Harlen, like my dad, is scary, maybe even more so. These two alone together doesn’t seem like a good idea, especially since there’s no way to miss the tension filling the room. “But—”