Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I’ve likely burned my chances at the beach for another weekend or so. The shirt I’m wearing was snatched from a hot dude two weekends ago, and my shoes, from someone just the other day. I have to wait for this rush of tourists to turn over to a new crowd before I start exploring again, but with it being Pride week, that may prove difficult.
I wish Cooper hadn’t caught me. It’s never a good idea to piss off the locals. Will I ever end this cycle of stealing?
“Finders keepers, right?”
I flinch, startled, and turn around.
Speak of the fucking nut devil.
Chapter 4 - Cooper
I have to admit, he looks cute when he’s caught.
“Don’t run,” I tell him the second he moves. “I’m not gonna chase after you or call the police.”
To my surprise, the boy actually stops and stares at me, staying right in place.
Hmm, that wasn’t expected.
“But I will, however, encourage you to give back what you stole,” I go on.
His pretty face twists with a frown. “Stole?”
“You heard me.”
“I didn’t steal anything.”
I roll my eyes. “Really? You’re gonna play dumb with me? We’re gonna do this song and dance?”
He shrugs defiantly. “You must be mixing me up with some other guy.”
“You’ve been stealing from my bar. Multiple times.”
“Oh, is that what you’re talking about?” he asks as he lifts his eyebrows in mock surprise, his forehead wrinkling up adorably. “I didn’t steal anything, sir. The nuts were out on the table for anyone. They’re free.”
“Not that full-ass can you had in your hand, which you could have only gotten from my inventory room. And not to mention a twelve-pack of Pepsi, which you also took.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do.”
“I can outrun you, y’know.”
This kid sure is pretty damned cocky. “Yeah, sure you can, but you can’t outrun whatever you think you’re gettin’ away with. Someday, it’s all gonna catch up to you, and it’s better it happens now with me than while sittin’ behind bars in a county jail, I can promise you that.”
We’re squared off on the side of Boardwalk Street with a good ten or twelve feet between us. The sun has crept far enough down the sky to turn the streetlights on.
If he runs now, I may lose him for good.
But the longer I look into his eyes, the less sure I am about why I’m here. Is it really about stolen snacks? There’s a story behind this boy’s eyes. A troubling story. Is he just some brat burning time while his parents enjoy the island? Or is this a runaway situation? What am I facing here?
“Do you need food?” I ask a touch more sensitively. “Are your parents being dicks? You on the run? Tell me what’s going on with you.”
“Fuck my parents. I’m eighteen. They don’t control me or tell me what to do.”
Ah, the new-adult confidence of an eighteen-year-old. I can remember that feeling like it was yesterday. “Hey, I’m just making sure you’re alright.”
“I’ll worry about myself,” he says, taking a step back. “You can just fuck off.”
“That’s not the way you speak to the guy whose nuts you’ve been stealing.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“You obviously like my nuts. You keep getting your hands on them. You like my nuts, boy?” I take another step toward him. “You want more of my nuts?”
He blushes, annoyed. “Stop saying ‘nuts’ like that.”
“So what’s your deal, then? You have nowhere to stay tonight? Are you living on the streets? Tell me something I can believe. Anything.” The guy stays silent and defiant. I let out a patient sigh. “Look, kid … you can continue doing whatever it is you want to do out here in Dreamwood, keep robbing people, stirring up shit on the beach … or …”
I stare at his eyes, his sweet and troubled eyes. And his hair, a total mess, in need of a serious, decent shower. His oversized t-shirt, stained in places, and his balled-up fists, looking ready to fend off a family of hungry tigers for a morsel. The soft blush of his cheeks, which don’t have a hair on them. His pouty, parted lips.
Is this part of his game? Making me feel an instant and unrelenting responsibility to take care of him? Waking up a dormant need in me to protect something precious? Just the way he looks at me rips my heart right out of my chest.
I literally can’t leave him alone like this. I don’t know the first thing about him, and all I want to do is nurture him. Maybe I’m the one who’s messed up.
“Or … let me help you out,” I finish.
He lets out a breath. “Help me?”
“Yeah. I can help. You’re out here by yourself, right? You’re obviously stealing for a reason. Let me help you.”
He doesn’t move. I figure he’s trying to decide whether or not to trust me. If he really is on the run from something, I sure as hell don’t blame him for questioning any and all acts of kindness. He’s probably been betrayed before. Hurt.