Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Now, though, I knew there was something more to his story.
“Do you mind if we grab a bite to eat before we head home?” I casually asked despite the worry that was consuming me as Flynn seemed to focus less and less on the road ahead of him. He was watching the road, but I had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing it.
“I don’t mind eating in the car,” I added since I knew he’d be more likely to agree if he didn’t need to be seen in public with me. Guys like Flynn didn’t hang out with guys like me in macho cowboy world. I was good enough for making out in a car on the side of the road, but even without my makeup and nice outfits, I probably still looked too “girlish” but not “girlish” enough to share a meal in public with.
Flynn didn’t answer me. I waited a good minute or two before I repeated my question, but before I even got to the part about eating in the car, we were turning into the parking lot of a small, very busy-looking diner.
“Did you want something?” I asked. “My treat. It might take a few minutes for them to fill the order, but you can wait out here—”
Flynn threw the door open in response. Okay, so apparently, he was the one who was going to get the food and leave me in the car. As long as it gave him a few minutes to clear his head, I could get over the sting of his silence. I tried to look at the silver lining that with one arm pretty much out of commission for the moment, it would have been harder for me to carry the food to the car, but before I could argue with myself about that fact, my door swung open. Flynn was standing like stone just outside the door.
I had no idea what he was doing, so I went with the only thing that made sense. “I’ll just have whatever you get,” I said before reaching into my pocket to seek out my wallet.
Flynn wrapped his fingers around my wrist and despite the strength I knew those fingers could wield, his hold was gentle. He didn’t say a word as he leaned into the car and practically brushed up my body while he sought to release the seat belt from the buckle.
Wait, he wants me to go inside with him?
From that moment on, I was nothing more than a well-behaved child who did everything the adult told him to. I let Flynn lead me inside the diner and into a booth. I let him order the same meal for me that he did for himself. I sat quietly across from him as conversation among the other restaurant goers’ voices seemed to get louder. I kept waiting for Flynn’s rock-hard body to relax, but if anything, he only became more and more agitated. My hope of helping him deal with whatever was bothering him so much grew less and less, and by the time he’d paid the check and started to drag me back to the Range Rover, that hope had turned into a heaping pile of bullshit that I wanted to dump Flynn’s ass in.
With my arm hurting like hell and the confusing events of the last several hours, my need for self-preservation kicked in. I’d shown this man too much and I needed to take it back in some way. I couldn’t literally take my words back, but damn if he got to walk all over me now like we were no longer equals.
As we left the diner, Flynn’s hand closed around my upper arm. His hold was gentle but unyielding as he began to lead me to the passenger side of the car. I came to a halt as soon as we reached the vehicle. Flynn was forced to stop moving or hurt me by yanking me forward.
He chose the former.
“What?” he snapped.
“Wow, it speaks,” I bit back. “Give me the keys,” I demanded and held out my hand.
“Why?”
I couldn’t help but look at him like he’d grown a second head. “Why? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not sitting in a car with you behind the wheel as we make our way up a narrow highway to the top of a fucking mountain while you’re acting like a bratty kid who didn’t get his way. I want one of us to actually be paying attention to the road and not feeling sorry for himself.”
“Sorry for myself?”
“Okay, wow, so you can speak words with more than one syllable and you can play the parroting game. Color me impressed,” I said snidely.
Flynn made something that sounded like a growl and then he was forcing me backward until I hit the driver’s side door. “Jules—” he warned.