Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
And just like that, she got another collar, sitting him in the back with a glaring Linny, cuffed to the Oh, Shite bar with a strip of packing tape across his mouth.
"What? Sometimes they spit. Or talk. Which is even worse."
"Why not duct tape?"
"Because if people see duct tape on someone in the backseat of someone's car, they get concerned. Try to be all noble, and call the cops. We can't be having that since I am not licensed, and this would look very much like federal offense with a twenty-year bid. I don't know about you, but I don't plan on spending the next two decades in a box."
"Got it," I agreed, nodding as we pulled out of the driveway, stopping at the corner store, seeing Kevin sitting at a picnic table at the side chowing down on a day-old hotdog. "What's up?" I asked.
"If I don't get some Reece's in the next two-point-five minutes, I can't be held accountable for my actions," she declared, eyes small with what I knew to be a mix not only of typical hangover pain, but likely cramps as well. The woman was plain striking out on the wellbeing front.
"Got it," I agreed, swinging open the door, and heading inside, coming back with the entire shelf display of Reece's along with a coffee, Gatorade, and cheese crunches.
She reached for those first, brows furrowed. "For you?"
"Dunno. Thought it was a comfort food kinda day," I suggested, almost feeling a little embarrassed about my lack of knowledge surrounding period food cravings.
"It is," she agreed, tearing it open, and placing the bag between her thighs for easy access while she drove, slapping my hand if I tried to grab one, so I satisfied myself with peanut butter cups, scooping out a bit of the insides to let Linny enjoy, right in the face of the schmuck cuffed in the back.
"Not a scratch?" the guy I assumed was Christian asked as we walked into Geoff's office late that night.
"On me or him?" Lou asked, holding the man in question by his upper arm in a grip that made her knuckles white, so it must have been bruising his flesh.
"Both," he shot back.
"Really? You don't see a scratch right... there?" she asked, swinging the man around, making his temple crack the side of a load-bearing beam in the middle of the room.
"Don't be too hard on yerself, mate," I consoled Christian. "She's got other-level frustration to use to her advantage today."
"So who is this?" Christian asked, light blue eyes roving over me, assessing me.
He was likely around Lou's age with wide shoulders, ink on his arms, and medium-brown hair. Good-looking in that perfect features kinda way.
"Christian, Adler. Adler, Christian. Should we all hug now?" Lou asked, clearly in need of bed, some Advil, and three-quarters of a pizza.
"Boyfriend?"
"My neighbor."
Not gonna lie, that stung.
"You got a Henchmen for a neighbor?"
"What can I say? I live in a shitty area," she told him, walking over to the sidebar of coffee, pouring herself a mug of something that smelt like it burned hours ago.
"Doesn't look at you like he's just your neighbor," Christian went on.
"Yes, well, I have a great ass. I don't care if he was my Catholic preacher neighbor, he'd still look at me like that."
"Fuck's up with you today?" Geoff asked after coming back from sticking the skip somewhere in the back. "You on the ra..."
"On the what?" she asked, moving from the coffee station to his desk in all of two strides, holding the steaming coffee mug over her boss's crotch. "On the what, Geoff? Say it."
"Maybe take her home," Christian suggested, giving Lou a smile that I could only describe as brotherly. "Get some food in her or something. She's surly as fuck when she's hungry."
"Come on, duchess," I said, taking the mug out of her hands, placing it down on the desk. "Today might not be the day for that."
"Any day is a good day to threaten my boss. I don't know what kind of lame ass places you've been working. It keeps morale up," she added, sending Geoff a saccharine smile as I put an arm around her lower back, and led her outside. "I want pizza," she declared in a pathetic little whining voice as I led her to the passenger side of her car without protest.
"Ya got it."
"And mozzarella sticks."
"As if I would deny ya them."
"Fried ravioli," she added when I closed her in, walked around the hood, and slid into the driver's seat.
Then I said words I never could have even imagined thinking before I met Rey. "Anything green to go with that?"
"Oregano is green."
To that, I let out a chuckle, shaking my head. "Guess I can't argue with that logic," I agreed, getting her home, watching as she fetched a blanket from her room, coming back in baggy black sweatpants, and throwing herself down on the couch.