Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“We don’t deal in fair,” Keir states simply.
“I kissed her today.”
“And…” Keir asks as I put the bottle back to my lips and take another two large mouthfuls, the burn slowly moving down until I don’t feel it anymore.
“She tastes like cinnamon,” I answer, my brows pinched.
“And that’s bad?” Angelo asks, and I swallow past the growing lump in my throat.
“It’s fucking terrible,” I say.
Because I want to taste more—but I don’t tell them that.
Keir’s phone rings, and he answers it straightaway. When he hangs up, I’m already halfway through the bourbon and well on my way to passing out and forgetting about tonight and that kiss.
“Seems your fiancée hasn’t shown up,” Keir states obviously having just spoken to Sailor.
“Go to her bookstore,” I tell him.
He instructs the driver, and our car pulls around.
“Why would she be there?” Angelo asks. “It’s late.”
“She’s always there,” I grumble.
It isn’t long until we come to a stop out the front, and I see the light shining inside.
“Stay in the car,” I tell them before I slide out. Keir takes the bottle from my hands as I stumble and push open the door of the bookstore, which is unlocked yet again. Does she not care for her own safety?
“Tesoro.”
“I am not your darling,” she bites out, her head popping up from behind a bookshelf.
“You are wanted. Why are you still here?” I ask, looking around at the boxes that are everywhere.
“I got a late shipment, and I have to unpack and stock the shelves. The author is coming tomorrow to personally sign them.”
“And you think this…” I wave my hands around, “… is more important?” I pick up the book, scrunching my nose at the cover of some shirtless guy. “They said to never judge a book by its cover, but I’m judging. What the hell is that!” I point with a cynical stare at the ridiculousness that’s right in front of my eyes.
“Yeah, well, that’s what fools do. Maybe you should open it. You might learn a thing or two.” She snatches the book from my hand. “You stink, or better yet, you reek of alcohol. Leave before you fuck up my store with that stench that I won’t be able to get out before tomorrow morning.”
“Keir is sitting in the car waiting for me.” Why I said that I have no idea. Guess I thought he might add some weight to my non-existent argument.
She pauses, looks behind me, then back to me. “You should for sure leave then. I don’t want to have to deal with your mafia boss.”
“I’m a boss too.”
“You are a bitch. Please… get it right.”
Goddamn her! I suck in air through my teeth at her words.
“And soon you will be my bitch,” I snap back.
“If you say so.” She smirks at me, then waves her hand toward the door. “Leave and go and be someone else’s bitch.”
“You are really pissing me off,” I warn her, which elicits a zero reaction as she continues to sort through book after book.
“Good. Will it make you leave any faster? Perhaps I should increase my all-around bitchiness.”
“No, but it might just make me burn your fucking store to the ground.”
Her body and then eyes connect with mine so fast I think her head might fall from her body, but something changes in her eyes. She looks me up and down, and then a condescending smile graces her lips. “That’s childish. Grow up. Learn how to handle people calling you names because I can’t promise I’ll stop any time soon.”
The front door opens, and Keir walks into the small, untidy bookstore.
She stays quiet, and I smirk at her uncomfortable stance.
“Adora, here, was just telling me how she doesn’t want to go.”
Keir looks at me and then at her.
“I have work,” she states, motioning to the boxes stacked in front of her.
“Joey will stay and help you.”
“Where are you going?” I ask Keir as he spins on his heels and heads straight for the door.
“To collect my wife.”
Then he is gone, and she’s snickering.
“See? Little bitch, just like I said.”
TEN
ADORA
Yes, I know what I said has struck a nerve, but I don’t really care. I told him I didn’t want to have a bachelorette party, but he didn’t listen. I have a job, and that job requires I be here and not drinking or partying with women I hardly know.
“If you call me a little bitch one more time, I’ll spank your fucking ass until you’re my little bitch,” he threatens, his voice sounding a bit slurred. When he goes to sit, he almost falls off the chair but manages to catch himself.
Clearly drunk.
“Do you love her?” he asks, confusing me.
“Who?”
“The blonde. Do you love the blonde?”
I’m shaking my head before I realize I am doing it. “I don’t know her well enough for that.”