Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Sloan took a careful breath and approached Jude. “What can I get you?”
“I feel like I’m perpetually apologizing to you, but I left abruptly last night and I’m sorry.” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “Come out with me after your shift.”
She blinked. Did he just…“I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m going to take you out. Tonight.” His intense dark eyes never wavered, though she was wondering how she ever labeled them cold. Right now, they were so hot, they were liable to turn her into a pillar of flame.
The only question was if she’d perish in the fire or emerge as something altogether different.
That thought should have scared her, but she’d been afraid for so long. Maybe it was time to do more than think about taking the first step into the future. Maybe she needed to actually put herself into motion. Sloan licked her lips, aware of the way he tracked the move. Everything about Jude was intense. He’d toned it down for her last night, but he wasn’t even trying right now. She shifted her stance, still torn. “I’m not exactly in a good place to date right now.”
He considered her, and she suddenly got the impression that he was choosing his words with care so as not to spook her. “What is it, exactly, that you think I’m asking?”
“I, ah…” She clutched her little notebook to her chest, painfully aware that the handful of diners in the place were blatantly eavesdropping. “I don’t know.”
He lowered his voice to the point where she had to inch closer to hear him clearly. “Let me show you.”
And, suddenly, she wanted to do exactly that. Sloan found herself nodding even though every instinct she had said that Jude was trouble in the worst way. But, whatever he was, he was vitally different from her brothers and father back home. He might seem brutal and dangerous and intense to a criminal degree, but this wasn’t Boston. This was Callaway Rock. No matter how dangerous he seemed, odds were that he wasn’t a man who had skeletons in his closet—literal or otherwise.
That made him safe in a way none of the men she’d ever known were.
Jude’s gaze sharpened. “That’s a yes.”
“That’s a yes.” Her voice was too breathy, too irregular to pass for anything other than nerves, but she didn’t care. If she fell flat on her face, at least she was living.
Get control of yourself.
She cleared her throat. “Can I get you something?”
“You.” He drummed his fingers on the table, ignoring her jaw dropping. “In the meantime, some coffee to go would be great.”
Did he…He didn’t…He did.
Sloan walked back to the kitchen in a cloud of white noise. She’d never been talked to like that. She wasn’t even sure it could be considered flirting, because he wasn’t feeling her out in any manner—he was talking to her like their being together was already predetermined.
Like she was a sure thing.
She wasn’t certain he was wrong.
* * *
Jude knew he’d crossed the line with Sloan, but there was something about the woman that drove him to it. He couldn’t help pushing, poking, prodding her into a corner just to see how she’d react. The interest that had flared in her eyes at his blatant invitation had been reward enough.
Kind of like the dazed look on her face when he told her exactly what he wanted.
Well, not exactly. He could have gone into explicit detail about every single thing he planned on doing to her body, but she’d already been half a second from freezing up or bolting.
You’re supposed to be pumping her for information. Not pumping…
He shut the thought down as she scurried back to him, a coffee mug and pot in her hands. Marge was an old battle-ax who used to have no problem sending people down to the beach with paper coffee cups, but the second those things started showing up in the sand and ocean, she drew the line. So she allowed ceramic mugs to travel outside the diner, and people sure as shit brought them back when the alternative was to be eighty-sixed out of the only decent place to eat without leaving Callaway Rock.
He waited for Sloan to pour the steaming hot liquid before he spoke again. “What time are you off?”
“Three.”
“Good.”
She started to say something, seemed to reconsider, and then hurried away, her head down and shoulders bowed. He’d take it personally, but she seemed to default to that body language when she wasn’t paying attention. The few times he’d seen her straighten and stride forward with purpose, it had very obviously been something she’d made herself do. Once again, he caught himself wondering what the hell her story was.
And who had hurt her.
Jude made an effort to unclench his hands. That was the crux of it—someone had hurt her. People didn’t walk around trying to squeeze themselves into as little space as possible without a damn good reason—without conditioning to do exactly that. He rubbed a hand over his chin, considering what he could find out about her. Sloan wasn’t a very common name, and adding in her likely connection to the Sheridans would narrow the search further. He could tap a couple of his sources and see what shook out.