Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Even his gaze changed as he eyed her across the sanded hood, ignoring everything in between them to search for something in her.
A lie, maybe?
Gracen had news for him. “I was trying to let my roommate know I might be late.”
That perked his interest enough to tilt his strong jaw upward. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Gracen used the stool’s bottom rungs and the hood as the place to support her hand as she leaned over the grab a bottle of beer with a familiar red and gold label, the caps on top emblazoned with a crown. “Bud’s my favorite.”
She used the sleeve of her sweater to get a decent grip on the cap without hurting her palm to twist it off. The satisfying hiss of the freshly opened beer left her tastebuds tingling as if she could already taste the cold hops. “I had to fight my friend to get it in the fridge. His mother might find it. We compromised. I keep the hard liquor in the freezer and grab the beer two or three at a time from Checkered’s if I want some. They’re charging seven dollars a bottle, which should be a damned crime, but it is what it is.”
Huh.
“Is he not of legal age or—”
“Twenty-five,” Malachi interjected as he reached for the other beer currently leaving a wet ring on the pizza box’s overturned cover. “Which is only a couple of years younger than me, but you couldn’t tell. It’s like he never got out of his teens half of the time.”
“And he can’t drink?”
That didn’t seem right to Gracen.
Or rather, nothing about it sounded right.
“Socially.” Malachi wet his lips after cracking open his own beer, and then he tipped it up for a drink that downed at least a quarter of the bottle. Smacking his satisfaction at the taste, he eyed the bottle and told her, “Within his circle.”
Gracen’s gaze narrowed at what Malachi implied; she’d heard that same nonsense somewhere else before. “Is he Pen—”
Malachi’s gaze cut to Gracen, and she didn’t even finish the question. The way he lifted one shoulder and subtly nodded before grabbing one of the three remaining slices of pizza answered her question without him needing to. He filled his mouth with a bite of cheesy pepperoni, but Gracen didn’t move to do the same.
Even if the pizza looked good.
Or maybe that was just Malachi eating it.
Needing to get her mind—and attention—off the way the man across the way chewed his food, because it really shouldn’t be that interesting, Gracen took her first sip of beer. The crisp liquor and familiar taste of hops washed down some of her nerves.
Maybe that was why she asked next, “Are you?”
The beer and its chilly contents seemed like a better thing to focus on after she asked it, though.
Gracen thought she already had the answer to her question if she added up a few facts—none of the church’s congregation would be caught dead outside shirtless. Even the men wore button downs folded up to the elbows when they worked in the nearby wood mills in the mid-summer when the temperature was the hottest. That was before she even factored in the beer, or how he’d easily invited her over; things he probably wouldn’t be allowed to do if he followed the church’s rules for its followers. Dating outside of their congregation was forbidden which was what made the upcoming wedding so curious to Gracen.
Well, other than the fact it also involved her ex.
She didn’t finish the question because she thought leaving it open-ended allowed Malachi to refuse to answer, if he wanted.
Instead, he only barked out a laugh.
“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “That’s the whole damn problem.”
“What problem?”
Instantly, Malachi quieted as he tossed what remained of his pizza slice to the box. While he chugged his beer and avoided Gracen’s gaze, she opted to give him an easy way out.
“You don’t need to tell me,” she said, and then took another sip of beer.
He plonked his bottle down to the hood.
Not even on the pizza box that time.
“Good,” he said roughly in a beer-induced sigh. “No offence, but I’m not really interested in getting into all of that tonight. And hell, it’s a little heavy, for a chick I didn’t even get on the back of my bike yet.”
Gracen’s brow jumped high. “You think you could get me on your bike?”
Across the hood, Malachi practically rolled off the stool with his laughter. “That’s not really what I meant—I need another beer.”
He retreated into the apartment, his laughter still echoing around Gracen while she tried to figure out if he had insulted her or not. Or rather, if he meant for his comment to be insulting. Since she decided she wasn’t that offended—and there was no way in hell he could get her on the back of his bike, anyway, not that he knew as much—Gracen shrugged it off and reached for her first slice of leftover pizza.