Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
The temperature had dropped since the sun set a few hours ago. His damsel in distress shivered, but he had a feeling it was more from fear than chill.
“Here you go.” He set her down on top of the picnic table.
Immediately, she released his shirt and drew up her knees, wrapping her arms around herself in her own protective blanket. If he’d had a jacket, he’d have lent it, but he didn’t even own one.
“You okay?” he asked as he took a step back, giving her space. Her back-the-fuck-off-vibe was unmistakable. The least he could do was respect it.
“Embarrassed,” she mumbled, speaking into her knees.
God, why him? Probably the only worse choice to comfort an upset woman would be a serial killer. “Nah,” he said. “Ain’t a thing.”
“I freaked out in the middle of a crowded party. It’s a thing.” She still hadn’t lifted her gaze to look at him.
More words. Speak more words.
He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, well, everyone is, uh… wasted.” It was the truth. “No one will ever remember in about thirty seconds.”
A tiny flicker of a smile twitched on her lips as she finally glanced up at him. “Right. Thanks for making up some bullshit so I’ll feel better.”
She was cute. Gorgeous really. Even with tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes courtesy of Dawg. As though lightning struck his ass, Frost jolted. Dawg, Jesus, they were out there because of that asshole, not so he could make googly eyes at her.
“You hurt?” he asked, failing to keep himself from growling. “That fucker put his hands on you?”
She shook her head. Brown curls bounced around her shoulders. They were so appealing. He’d love to wind one around his finger.
“No. Well, he touched my leg, but that’s all, thanks to you. I’m not hurt. I was just… scared.”
The fucker had signed his own death warrant, but Frost resisted the urge to leave her out there and go back in to rip Dawg’s nuts off himself. Instead, he frowned. There was scared, and then there was this woman. She’d been scared, out of her mind, terrified. Even now, minutes later, her knuckles were white, where she had her hands interlaced around her drawn-up legs.
“Well, we kicked his ass out, so you can head back in whenever.”
She huffed a sad little laugh as she shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Frost’s frown deepened. “You were that frightened?” So much so she couldn’t even go back inside?
She stared down at her knees again. “I, uh… have a bit of a thing. With certain men. When I’m alone. You know, past trauma and all that.” She chuckled as though trying to play it off, but the fear and sadness didn’t escape him.
Frost rubbed the knuckles on his right hand. His punching hand. Back in the day, that guy got a lot of action. Since his arrest, he kept himself in check. Jail hadn’t scared him straight, but he’d be damned if he ended up back there because he couldn’t control his temper.
The thought of some man hurting this woman so badly she carried the mental weight of it years later made him feel a rage he rarely allowed. The same violent desires he’d experienced the moment he discovered his best friend hadn’t come down to the county jail to bail him out but instead had nailed his coffin shut.
“Anyway,” she said as she lowered her legs and sat straight. “I’m sorry for the drama. I’ll just take off.”
“No!”
Her eyes widened.
Shit, now he sounded like a crazy man. What reason did he have to keep her there? Absolutely none, except an odd desire to remain in her company.
“What? Uh, why?”
He stared at her for a moment. “What’s your name?”
“Oh.” She chuckled. “You saved a woman. I suppose it’s only fair you get to know her name. I’m Rachel.”
“Jack.”
She tilted her head. “Jack Frost? That’s… interesting.”
Ugh, that fucking name.
He must have scowled because she pressed her lips together, trapping a laugh inside. “Sorry. I heard someone call you Frost.”
With a grunt, he sat next to her on the bench. Instead of scooting away as he assumed she’d do, she tilted her body to face him. “Yeah. Apparently, I have a frosty personality, and my brothers are creative as fucking slugs. Frost was the best they could come up with.”
She smiled a genuine grin for the first time, transforming her face from cute and uncertain to downright beautiful. “I don’t know. I kinda like it. Especially since we’re in Florida in December, and it was eighty degrees when I got off the plane today.”
So she wasn’t from around there. Interesting.
As though realizing the slip of her tongue, she cleared her throat. “Anyway, thanks for saving my ass in there.”
They were back to stilted and uncomfortable. Now that he had a tidbit of information, Frost couldn’t let a million questions in his head go unanswered. He had to know. “So what’s a girl who doesn’t like certain men doing spending her Saturday night in at a biker party?” He hadn’t talked this much in ages and felt completely out of practice with the art of conversation, but she hadn’t run off yet.