Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Do you have a name, sweetness?”
Only stupidly handsome guys blessed with more than their fair share of charm and ego could get away with calling women they didn’t even know cutesy nicknames without coming off as creepy.
“Este.”
“Este. I like that,” Raff declared. “So, do you bring a ladder to all your social functions, or do you work here?”
Charmed a little despite myself, my lips curved up.
“I work here.”
“Girl repairman. I like it. Please tell me you sometimes wear a tool belt.”
“If the job requires it.”
Raff pressed a hand to his heart.
“You’re new in town, right? I’m pretty sure we would have noticed you before.”
“Just a couple of weeks. I was just supposed to be passing through, but something made me want to stop.”
“It has a sort of desolate, sad, small-town charm.”
He said that in a way that suggested he’d traveled enough to see many such towns.
“Well, we are having a party later tonight if you want to come. Good food, fruity drinks, a Jello shot or two. You should come by. We’re up at that big warehouse at the edge of town.”
I knew the exact one they were talking about. In a very small town full of modestly sized buildings, it and the prison stood out like sore thumbs.
“You’re having a party at a warehouse?”
“Sort of. It’s where we live.”
That made more sense. I remembered it having several tables and such out back—along with a chicken coop.
“I’ll think about it,” I said. It was a brush-off, of course. Because what woman in her right mind went to a party with random, strange members of a motorcycle club?
“There will be lots of other girls there,” Raff went on, as if sensing my trepidation. “Just something to keep in mind. Well, we won’t keep you from work, pretty Este. Maybe we will see you later.”
As intrigued as I was to see what the inside of that warehouse might look like, and to get close enough to feel Coach’s body heat again, that was absolutely not going to happen.
I, of all people, knew too well how important it was to be careful, to never take any chances. Going to a party with men I didn’t know? It didn’t get more dangerous than that.
Still, as I stored away the ladder and headed back out the doors of the pool hall, there was a little sinking sensation in my stomach.
For not getting to spend more time with Coach, sure. But it was more than that. It was because of how narrow my life had become.
Once upon a time, I’d been the fresh-faced girl with nothing to be afraid of. The one who made friends easily and frequently, who didn’t believe in strangers, who took chances and lived fully.
But all that had slowly been chipped away from me, leaving me all alone in the world with nothing but my hobbies and my dog.
“Not that you’re not enough,” I told Trix, as if she could hear my thoughts.
At the end of her lead, she turned back to look at me in a very ‘Why are you bothering me when I’m trying to sniff every inch of this town,’ kind of way.
I’d gone home to change after work, slipping into shorts and a tee, knowing that Trix liked an impossibly long walk and that it was still pretty hot out.
Getting Trix partially filled the hole created by being forced to leave not only my friends behind me but any hope of making solid future ones as well. Because I never knew when I was going to need to pack up, take off, start over, and never look back.
Trix pulled me all the way to the edge of town right before the road split to head up toward the motel, gas station, and eventually, the prison, or to go toward the suburbs where you would have to pass by the warehouse.
The place was all lit up—three floors of brightness. And even from far away, I swore I could hear the thumping bass of the music.
No, I couldn’t make forever friends.
But who was to say I couldn’t have one night of being social? Of pretending I was just a normal woman with a normal life who could have normal experiences?
“You ready to head back?” I asked Trix. I got a sniff, but she turned and walked all the way back to our duplex at half the speed she had left it. Once I was sure she had everything she needed for the night, I went ahead and did something reckless.
I showered.
I threw on something pretty.
I grabbed my keys.
Then I left the house—and my fifty unfinished projects within—behind to get in my car and take a drive. Just a drive. I could opt out at any moment.
Until, of course, I found myself parked in the lot of the warehouse among a bunch of motorcycles and cars. Judging by the various items nestled in some—claw clips on the visor, hair ties on the shifter, big patterned stainless steel cups in the holders—I figured Raff was right about there being a lot of women around.