Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
After getting a job with Ava, she had kind of rushed things at home. She didn’t want to live with her parents anymore, and as soon as she could, she’d rented a place, only … it sucked. The other problem was the rent was so high that she was already behind, running up debt, and her whole paycheck was going toward trying to stay out of her mother’s home. Food was not much of an option.
She refused to tell Big Dick, and she would never go home and ask for help.
Harlow had gotten herself into the bind, and she’d get herself out of it. So far, she’d avoided the landlord, and had been trying to make her wage stretch by paying him every week.
She didn’t have any food at home, and the leftovers she’d taken from the clubhouse had run out. She wasn’t due to get paid until Friday. She shouldn’t eat, but she was starving, so she made her way across the street, toward the diner. Being a vegan had its perks, as she knew a large plate of fries was cheap and vegan, and suited her diet. If her mother learned of her predicament, she’d complain that her diet was too extravagant, and not about the ridiculous rental fee.
There had been several times she’d looked at her brother and wondered if she should ask him for advice. She didn’t want him to deal with it, but advice would be good as she didn’t know if the rental fee was fair or not. But she knew he would just take over and handle it for her, which she didn’t want. She could take care of herself, and she didn’t need anyone to do that for her.
Stepping into the diner, she saw it was still busy but she was able to find a small table. She took a seat, ordered a large plate of fries, and then waited, pulling out her cell phone. Finding Smokey’s number, she was tempted to text him but immediately shot that idea down, and then dropped her phone.
She glanced around the diner, not really paying attention to anyone or anything. Every time the door opened, a gust of cold air circled her ankles. She was tempted to pull her jacket on, but she instead folded her arms and waited.
As she sat waiting, she couldn’t help but think about Hunter. He was wrong for her in so many ways, she knew that, and she had a feeling he knew that as well. They were wrong for one another, but that didn’t stop her from fantasizing about him.
It was so wrong. He was older than her, closer to Smokey’s age, while she was nearing only twenty-one years.
She had no doubt he’d been with lots of partners, while he was her first kiss. She’d not been with any other man, hadn’t even had a boyfriend.
There had been guys who asked her out on dates, but she just hadn’t been interested in them, or they had stared at her chest the whole time they asked her out. She was not going to date a chest starer. Gross. Sometimes she wondered if it was because she had six brothers, if the very thought of dating a woman with that many men in her life terrified them. If they only knew that her brothers were so self-involved, they wouldn’t care who dated her.
Another gust of wind circled her legs and she looked up, only to feel herself frozen to the spot as the man she had been trying to forget and pretend didn’t exist, walked into the diner. He was alone, which was rare.
Hunter usually had an entourage of people around him. This was indeed a rare sight. She looked at him and then averted her gaze. Much to her surprise, he came to her table, pulling out the chair opposite and taking a seat.
“Hello, Harlow,” he said.
She wasn’t going to be rude to him. Her mother had taught her to have good manners. From the moment he kissed her, though, they hadn’t been alone, nor had they talked about it. She didn’t have his number and there was no way she would become a stalker. She wasn’t that kind of woman.
“Hunter,” she said.
He smiled and she hated how that lilt of his lips looked so good on him. He was a guy who rarely smiled and when he did, it changed the look of his face.
“You’re alone,” he said.
“You don’t miss a thing, do you?”
He chuckled.
The waitress, whose name she couldn’t remember, brought over the plate of fries.
“Hi, Hunter,” the woman said, her voice dripping with promise.
Harlow rolled her eyes.
“What can I get you?”
There was clearly a double meaning to the question. She ignored it and grabbed her fork, stabbing at the fries. How do some women do it? How do they seem to approach the men they want and hold the promise of something more within their voice without saying they want sex? Harlow was not sexual. She didn’t know how to do the feminine things other women seemed to do.