Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
The sly smile he gives me sends a shiver right into my core. “Any time.” His skin’s tan, and he’s got the square jaw of an eighties action hero. There’s something strangely clean-cut but also deeply menacing about him.
“Let me get you more napkins,” Pam says, fussing over me. “Oh, shit, I can’t believe this just happened.” She hurries off, muttering to herself. I like her a lot, but she’s not great in a crisis. Solid coworker, though.
Stellan leans back in his chair and lightly nudges one of the guys at his feet. The man rolls onto his back with a groan. “I don’t plan on sticking around for the cops to show up.” He’s staring at me, still smirking like this is fun.
“Got an outstanding warrant or something?”
“Something like that.” His eyes sparkle with a joke I don’t totally get. “Here’s the thing. I’ve been coming here for the past week, and you haven’t noticed me a single night.”
My eyebrows raise at that. “Was I supposed to?”
“Not necessarily. Just strange, is all.”
“Are you used to being noticed?”
“Only when I want to be.”
“Well, look, I appreciate what you did to these three fuckers, but that’s about as far as my gratitude goes.” I give him a hard stare and hope my meaning is completely clear.
He seems unfazed, though. It’s kind of annoying.
“I’ll be back in a few nights. I have work to deal with until then. But give me your number so I can take you out to dinner.”
I dab at my nose. Fortunately, the bleeding’s mostly stopped. I take a breath to calm myself. My hands are still shaking. “Look, honestly, this was nice of you, stepping in and all. I know I’m being short and rude. It’s just, I don’t have time for dinner.”
“You don’t eat?”
“No.”
“Not ever?”
“I photosynthesize.”
“You do what?”
“Like a plant.”
He laughs at that and pushes himself to his feet. “Alright, flower. Tell you what.” Stellan takes a step toward me. I don’t move. There’s nothing threatening in him, even if he radiates a strange, masculine intensity. He’s smiling and restrained, and I don’t get the same unhinged monster vibe that I got from the bald asshole.
But there’s something frightening lurking under that easygoing facade. His clothes are too expensive, and his haircut seems too perfect for a diner like this. He makes zero sense.
“If you change your mind, you let me know.”
“I won’t. But thank you.”
Stellan only gives me another lingering look. His smile fades slightly, and he looks like he wants to say something. But instead, he shakes his head and walks off, hands shoved in his pockets, casual as anything.
Pam comes hurrying back. Harry follows, armed with another rolling pin.
“Where’s he going?” Pam asks, dabbing at my face with a damp towel.
“I don’t know.” I take the towel from her. “I’m seriously fine. I’m not kidding. I bleed all the time. And it’s already done.”
“God, hon, you should go home. Forget the cops. I’ll deal with it.”
“No.” I stand up too quickly. “I mean, I appreciate it, but I need the hours.”
“You got hit, girl. You got blood on your clothes too.”
“I’ll change. Someone’s got to clean up the glass. Just don’t make me go home.” The idea of losing out on tonight’s money is like an electric bolt straight to my chest. A dozen different bills float through my head, plus all the college application expenses Gem’s been putting on the credit card.
Harry and Pam exchange a look. The big man just shrugs. “Let her stay if she wants.”
Pam sighs, exasperated. “Fine. Okay. Just, take a few minutes and clean yourself up. And leave if you want! God, I swear, this fucking place…”
I give her a quick hug and disappear into the back. I duck into the bathroom, flipping on the light, locking the door behind me.
I look tired. My hair’s a mess. My face is smeared with blood. I wash it off the best I can and try to make myself presentable. I have extra clothes in a little locker I can put on.
But, shit. I prod at the bags under my eyes. I poke at my swollen nose. Twenty-three going on fifty. This is what happens when I work six days a week and pick up the graveyard shift another three.
All these sleepless nights are going to be worth it one day. Even getting hit in the face is going to pay off.
When my genius little sister’s in college living the life she deserves.
I’ll look back on this and smile.
Right now, though, I have a mess to clean up and more eggs to sling.
KIRA
“Breakfast is ready!” I poke my head into Gem’s room. She’s barely more than a lump under her heavy pink comforter. It’s unseasonably freezing in November. We’re two weeks away from Thanksgiving, and I have no idea how I’ll get any turkey this year. But one problem at a time.