Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
I sit up, hitting my steering wheel so hard my palm burns. Good. Maybe the pain will stop this ache in my chest.
My eyes travel up, and I see Libby standing there with a box in her hand as a guy walks over. It’s John Bishop's boy, Owen. I’ve never had a problem with him, but suddenly I hate every fucking thing about that shithead.
I’m out of the truck before I know what I’m doing. If I had a rational thought, I’d make myself stop. But I’m not listening to myself. I’m only seeing red as he reaches out and touches her cheek. I don’t know what he is to her, but he’s about to be six feet under.
When I see him bring his hand up to his mouth, I reach out grab his wrist, and then turn my eyes on Libby. I need her to look at me and not at him. I’m so fucking jealous that I can’t stand to have her eyes on any goddamn man except myself.
“Jasper,” she says, and the sweet, soft sound has my every inch of my body hard.
“Go get in my truck, Libby. I’ll meet you there.”
I let go of Owen's wrist, not wanting to touch him, but I keep my eyes locked with her bright greens. A light blush creeps across her cheeks, and she looks down at the ground. I hate that I don’t get to see them on me anymore, but she nods, and a little peace settles in my chest. She and Nicole turn to leave, but I don’t watch her go. Instead I turn to Owen, standing in front of him, my big body blocking his view of her.
“What’s up, Jasper? Just saying hey to your sister. No harm, man.” He holds his hands up like he doesn't want a fight. But he obviously does if he’s touching what’s mine.
I try to rid my mind of the thought of Libby being my property, but it’s no use. She’s been mine since we were kids, and there’s no changing my stupid brain now.
“Keep your hands to yourself, Bishop,” I say, and I don’t move an inch, daring him to come at me. I could use a fight right about now. It would probably help me burn off some pent-up aggression.
“Look, I know she’s your sister and all. But I’m a decent guy. Why don’t you put in a good word for me?” He shrugs like he’s some sort of fucking prize.
“No,” I say and turn around, walking towards my truck.
“No?” I hear Owen say behind me. “Fucking asshole.”
He says the last part so low I don’t think he expects me to hear it. But I’m so pissed off I could hear a mouse fart in a cotton ball.
“What you’d call me?” I say, whipping around and taking two long strides to put me back in front of him.
He looks nervous, but his boys are behind him, so he doesn't want to get punked. “Asshole,” he says weakly. “I called you an asshole.”
His second admission is a bit stronger, but he’s still a greasy piece of shit that doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as that beauty sitting in my truck.
“That’s what I thought you said.”
I nod and make half a turn before I’m planting my fist in his face. The loud crack echoes through the parking lot, and my knuckles sting. I welcome the pain as I stand over him and look down at his limp body. His friends hesitantly come over to check on him.
Waiting half a second to see if anyone else feels brave enough to fuck with me, I watch Owen regain consciousness and sit up, blood running down his face.
“What the fuck, Jasper?” he complains, his hands cupped over his bloody nose.
“Don’t touch Libby again. And watch your mouth. There are ladies present.”
I look over to see some of the older church ladies standing outside the Sunshine Diner. I tip my hat to them and smile like nothing happened here.
“Afternoon,” I say as I pass them.
I feel a smile pulling at my face as I make my way to the truck. I see Libby sitting in the passenger seat, and as much as I don’t want to like it, she looks so fucking good in there. She looks good anywhere, for that matter, but by my side is where I always picture her.
Some days I wish I could burn the image of her and me together out of my mind, but then other days, it feels so right that I don’t want to imagine it’s anyone else. Every dark-haired woman is compared to her, and every light-haired woman is lost in comparison.
I’ve decided to succumb to my fate and realize that there is truly only one person for me for the rest of my life. And if I can’t have her, then I can’t have anyone. My poor, poor dick.