Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I wonder what Mom would have thought about me working in a bar in Australia. She used to talk to me about all the different career options that might interest me, even when I was a kid. It’s as though she wanted to inspire me to think about my future, even when things were going so wrong in the present.
Who would I be now if things turned out different? Maybe I’d be like Kyla, settled down in a relationship and making plans that don’t involve giving up a job and a home to flee across the world. Maybe I would have hung onto Brett, who was a perfectly good guy and awesome in the sack, rather than sending him back onto Tinder to find a replacement for me.
I don’t know. How can we ever know what we would be like if our past was different? Like a patchwork quilt, you can’t just remove the center square without the whole thing falling apart.
"Hey, can I help you with anything?" A deep baritone voice asks from inside, and I almost jump out of my skin.
"Craig sent me about a job," I say, squinting into the lower light of the bar to take in the gorgeous face that’s staring at me with interest. He’s tall with sun lightened brown hair and warm brown eyes that make my skin feel too hot and too tight. The worn gray shirt that hugs his chest and arms like it’s in love with the feel of his skin doesn’t help reduce his appeal, either.
"A job?" He raises his chin as he sizes me up, too. Does he like what he sees? Who knows? I think I look cute in my outfit, but it’s nothing like I would usually wear for an interview. Then again, this bar isn’t anything like any of the places I’ve worked at before. "You’d better come on in then," he drawls, the Texan twang now out in full force.
So I do, because fate has played her card, and I never refuse a game.
3
MITCHELL
I look up from the box I’m currently unpacking to find Bradley crossing the bar with a girl who looks familiar. I squint as she gets closer, taking in her loose light brown hair, cute white shirt and sexy cut-off denim shorts that leave very little leg to the imagination. Damn, she has nice thighs. The kind of thighs I love wrapped around my hips or my face.
Her green eyes meet mine, and I get a flashback from last night.
That’s who she is! The girl who drenched me with beer and cost me another round. The girl whose sassy mouth and mischievous smile left a lasting impression.
"It’s you," I say, grinning. "The Tasmanian Devil who overturned my tray."
Bradley glances down at her with a surprised expression, raising his thick brows. "You’re the one who wet him down to his underwear?"
The girl has the decency to look guilty but smiles broadly with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "That’s me. Except I’m not a Tasmanian Devil, more an American kind of demon."
"You guys must know each other," I say, and both of them roll their eyes in response.
"What is it that you don’t get, Mitchell? There are over three hundred million people in the US. The chances of me bumping into someone I know from home are so small it’s not even a thing."
"We should have pretended to be cousins," the girl says, grabbing Bradley’s arm. "We could have pranked them."
"That would have been fun." Bradley’s eyes drift to where her hand is currently wrapped around his forearm.
"Do you have a resume? Experience?" I ask as she smiles up at Bradley and draws her hand away.
"I’m on vacation, and I haven’t done any bar work before. The closest experience I have is when I worked retail when I was in college."
"So, you’ve worked in the service industry?"
"Yeah." She shrugs her shoulders and I get the distinct feeling that she doesn’t care if we offer her the job or not. She’s like a butterfly that’s blown in on the breeze.
"And you like the idea of working here?"
She glances around, pivoting on her foot as she takes in the bar. "I think it looks awesome."
"But you’re on vacation," Bradley says. "How long will you be around for?"
Shrugging again, she tucks her hair behind her ear. "I don’t have a return ticket. I’m leaving my plans open."
"So you could work a couple of months, minimum?" I ask.
"Sure. If you’re nice to me!" The grin that splits her face reminds me of last night.
"Nice is a very unsexy word. I could be good to you. Exceptionally good, in fact."
"I’m not sure this conversation is appropriate for an interview," Bradley warns.
"This girl spilled so much beer on me yesterday, my cock had a drink."
She points at me and laughs hard enough that she doubles over. "I knew it. That’s exactly what I thought to myself, that your cock would have tasted like beer."