Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Unfortunately, it was still two hours before I was supposed to meet my friends. I decided to go down early, finding a spot on Sherman Avenue to sit on the curb and watch the cars drive by. All around me little children jumped and squealed, their parents drinking beer and arguing about whether Ford or Chevy should rule the world.
Time passed as the kids disappeared and younger people started filling the bars. It felt good to be out. Farell didn’t like being around people after his accident, so it seemed like we always ended up staying home.
The Ironhorse had a live band for the night, and they’d opened up their big sliding glass doors onto the street, creating a beer garden outside. Kelly was already there when I came in, along with her friend Cherise. I knew there were more girls on the way, but they weren’t going to join us until later. We did a round of shots before hitting the dance floor. By midnight I couldn’t remember why the hell I’d ever considered staying home.
“I need water!” I yelled in Kelly’s ear, lurching toward the bar. We had a table staked out in the back corner, but flagging down a waitress was next to impossible.
“Grab a pitcher for the table!” she replied, turning back to the dance floor. I wound my way through the crowds of people, trying not to fall on my face. I’d lost track of how many shots we’d done. More than a lot, but not too many. Yet. I giggled at the thought—when was the last time I went out and just let myself go?
The bar was slammed, of course. Not exactly a huge surprise, but I didn’t mind waiting my turn. I could use the break. Even though I was in good shape, all that dancing left me out of breath and covered in sweat. I probably looked like hell, but that didn’t matter—I wasn’t here to find a man.
Fuck romance. Being single kicked ass.
I should tell that to Boonie, I decided. He might be hot and have a nice dick, but I wasn’t going to let any man tie me down. Ha!
“Can I buy you a drink?” asked a guy next to me, and I turned to look at him. He was cute—probably around my age or a little older, with a shock of dark black hair and green eyes. He was all frat boy, coated in a thick layer of Abercrombie and Fitch. Kelly would be all over him.
I opened my mouth to tell him I was married, then snapped it shut again because I wasn’t married anymore!
Holy crap, that was awesome. Suddenly I grinned at him like an idiot, leaning toward him to say, “No, but thanks for asking.”
I turned away to find the bartender smirking at our little exchange, and shrugged my shoulders in a “whatcha gonna do?” kind of move.
“Can I get a pitcher of water?”
“And a round of kamikazes,” a deep voice said behind me. I froze as big arms reached down to grasp the bar on either side of me.
Boonie?
I could see his reflection in the mirror behind the bartender. He stepped closer, crowding and covering me with his powerful body. Then he leaned down, smoothing aside my hair to speak directly in my ear.
“That guy sitting next to you looks like he wants to eat you,” he said. “You give him anything that should be mine?”
I stiffened, refusing to reply as the bartender set a tray of shots in front of us. Then I reached into a pocket to pay for them, because like I said—I buy my own drinks.
Boonie wrapped an arm around my waist, trapping my hand as he handed the bartender a wad of bills.
“I ordered the fuckin’ shots,” he rumbled in my ear. “What’s got your panties in a knot?’’
I smelled alcohol on his breath and I wondered who he’d been drinking with. Was it a woman? I turned in his arms to frown at him.
“I’ve decided to stay single for the rest of my life,” I announced grandly. “I don’t care how good you are at sex—I’m not interested.”
Boonie gave a shit-eating grin as he tipped the bartender.
“So you think I’m good at sex?’’
“Don’t be a dumbass,” I said, rolling my eyes. Uh oh. That made me dizzy. I caught his arm and steadied myself, wondering what I’d been planning to say.
“Where’s your table?’’ he asked. I glared at him.
“It’s full,” I declared. “We don’t have room for you.”
“You can sit on my lap.”
He wasn’t kidding about sitting on his lap. Kelly and the others squealed with excitement when they saw the tray of kamikazes, and they squealed harder when five big men wearing Silver Bastard and Reapers MC colors came to join us.
“You know,” Kelly slurred, leaning toward Boonie. “I didn’t like you very much this afternoon—even wished I hadn’t told you where to find us. I’m really glad I did.”