Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Then, all of a sudden, he took a big step back.
“I gotta go…I…I’ll see you at school.” He looked rattled, shook down to his Nikes. I watched as he jogged back to his truck.
He spent the next few months avoiding me.
Chapter Thirteen
Maren
The next week is both a chore and a surprise. Chore because Noah goes into full-blown insufferable mode, walking me through the ins and outs of the club while saying as little as possible and looking at me even less. A surprise because I’m starting to enjoy my time at Rowdy’s. I wake up excited each morning with the promise of what the day holds. It’s been so long since I’ve felt that way that I don’t know what to make of it.
I now know how many different brands of whiskey we serve (15). How many employees we employ (20 full-time and another 19 part-time). And that’s just the beginning.
Today I’ve been going over the books in Noah’s office. When I walked in at ten, after my morning workout, he pointed to a computer that his managers use and said, “Use this one.” Then he opened the password-protected files and left me to it. I’ve been here all day, combing through them, and what I found admittedly surprised me.
Hurrying down the scuffed wood stairs, I run into Knox who is busy restocking bottles behind the bar. I’ve gotten to know him a little bit better since he took the time to really teach me how they manage the liquor and have come to think of him as a gentle giant.
“Hi, Knox. Have you seen the grim reaper?”
Knox smirks. He isn’t the only one who’s noticed Noah and I are not on good terms. Noah’s been acting like a beast with everyone and many a strange looks have been exchanged amongst the staff. Jana included.
“Yeah, he’s in the barn. Working out.”
“Barn?”
“Yeah, he didn’t show you?”
“No.”
“Go out the back door and you can’t miss it.”
Following his directions, I find a large, remodeled barn across the parking lot. It’s beautiful, with a slick red paint job and a fancy zinc roof.
As soon as I enter through the unlocked door, I hear voices. One belongs to Noah. The other belongs to a woman who I assume must be Jana.
The building is divided into two very large rooms. I peek into the first. It’s a mechanic shop; two motorcycles and a vintage car take up the three bays. The second is filled with state-of-the-art gym equipment. Noah stands with his back to me, facing Jana, his black t-shirt soaked in sweat, his basketball shorts hugging the globes of his ass.
“I can move out if you want me to.” Her voice is both tentative and seductive at once.
Watching them stand so close to each other is about as pleasant as having my corneas polished with sandpaper. My gut churns while my mind screams, Step off, sister!
“Don’t be ridiculous. I want you there. I’d be worried if you were anywhere else,” he says in a low, soothing voice.
“Okay…I’ll stay then,” she replies, smiling up at him.
I clear my throat, thwarting a potential kiss, and can now add cock blocker to the short list of my skills.
She looks beyond his shoulder and spots me in the doorway. Noah follows her line of sight and turns to face me, his countenance going from relaxed to shuttered in less than zero seconds. Any doubts I may have had about being seen as an interloper disappear.
“See you later,” Jana says to Noah and heads for the door behind me.
“You don’t have to leave on my account,” I tell her when she reaches me. “I only have a couple of questions for him.”
“It’s okay. I’ll see him later anyway,” she answers with a soft smile and walks out the door.
If that wasn’t a well-placed shiv, I don’t know what is.
“Nice gym. Can I use it sometime?”
Noah picks up a towel and dries his face as I approach. “What’s mine is yours,” he tells me while his face says something different.
The hint of sarcasm in his voice doesn’t sit well either, but I decide not to pursue it for the greater good of our working relationship. “Am I interrupting?”
“What’s up?” His head tilts back.
“I was going over the books.”
As if I haven’t just spoken, he walks over to a large piece of equipment and starts doing chin-ups. Up, down. Up, down.
Umm…
I’ve put up with his cold attitude for days and I’ve had just about enough. If anyone has the right to be cold and peeved it’s me, and yet I’ve managed to put aside my feelings to accomplish what my grandfather asked of us. The least he could do is be civil.
“I went as far back as ten years,” I continue, hoping that if I ignore his antics he’ll give it a rest.