Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“Thanks, sweetheart.” I cock an eyebrow at her as she sits on a bench opposite me.
“Do I look like a waitress?” she quips, but even though she’s been rather serious since I first spoke to her, she offers me a small smile that makes me want to see so much more of it.
Leaning forward, I settle my elbows on my thighs and question, “Were you a waitress? Before you got locked in this loony bin?”
To this, she laughs a soft, magical sound that makes me grin.
“Are you meant to call it that? I mean, is that PC?”
“PC?” My brows furrow in question, giving her the advantage of thinking she’ll educate me, but I know exactly what politically correct is.
“Politically correct,” she informs me, slim shoulders shrugging, as if it’s something I should know. And even though I should’ve just responded with an easy answer, this seems to keep her talking, and I can’t help enjoying having her school me. Fuck, I want her to show me everything she’s hiding.
I can’t help noticing the big purple bruise on her shoulder. The angry-looking mark seems to be embedded under her porcelain skin. As if she’s a broken doll.
“I’m not fragile,” she tells me, causing me to snap my gaze to hers. There are intricate patterns of hidden pain shimmering in her clear green eyes. They hide secrets, dark ones.
“I ain’t said you are, sweetheart,” I tell her. Pulling a pack of smokes from my pocket, I tap the bottom, making one jolt out, and lift it towards her. “Want one? They’re strong. Not for fragile girls,” I taunt.
“Fuck you,” she spits but takes a cigarette, and I can’t help chuckling.
I watch her light the smoke and pull hard on the stick until the cherry burns deep orange. It burns bright as she slowly inhales the thick plume. When she blows it out, making small rings, I’m awed. I’m fecking floored, to be honest, because this woman has done something some of the guys have never been able to do.
“Not bad for a little girl, huh?” She quirks the corner of her mouth into a small, satisfied grin.
Shrugging, I inhale a deep drag of my own smoke and meet her gaze. “Impressive, but I bet you’ve been practisin’, and you weren’t completely honest with me,” I tease and chuckle when she swats my knee. The contact of her small, delicate hand on my leg causes my blood to simmer.
“So, why are you here, Sully?” the little Clover asks, sounding genuinely curious.
THREE
CLOVER
“There are times when an escape is needed. I’ve found myself at the bottom of a bottle far too many nights,” he informs me, suddenly serious, and the surrounding air shifts.
There’s a heaviness hanging over us, and I feel sad for asking him something so personal. But then again, he did ask me a few questions I didn’t want to answer.
“I’m sorry.”
He pulls deeply on the cigarette hanging between his lips. The redness of the sparks burns as he inhales, and the dark orange reminds me of a sunset lighting the sky. And before long, it’s dark when he exhales the smoke into a plume that surrounds him.
He shakes his head in response to me. “Don’t be. I’m no wee lad anymore. Time to grow up. But I hear lassies fancy bad boys, so it’s not all shite,” he boasts, puffing out his chest.
But even with the bravado he puts on, I can see his sadness in those dark eyes.
“And all that ink only adds to the persona?” I challenge while raking my eyes over him.
“Wanna see the rest?” he asks, his fingers curling around the hemline of his tee, lifting it only infinitesimally, and I can’t help glimpsing tiny bits of ink on his exposed stomach.
“No!” My voice comes out squeaky and raspy all at the same time, and I wonder if he noticed it. Surely he has.
I’ve only ever been with one man. One man who hurt me more than I’d ever thought possible.
“Calm down, sweetheart, I ain’t givin’ everyone a show.” He lifts his chin toward the door behind me, and I turn to see a couple of the other women from my ward coming out with their cigarettes. “But”—he leans in closer, and there are still a few inches between us—“if you’d like to have a private show later, let me know.” He winks before rising from the bench and sauntering away.
I’m left alone to mull over the flirty conversation. I have nothing to keep my hands busy. The nerves set in, and I bounce my leg as I watch the other two women on their smoke break. The storm clouds are now thick and heavy, and any moment, they’ll open and shower the land with refreshing rain. I need to head inside and check my phone. My uncle’s men who brought me here managed to sneak it in for me, and I’m thankful because I can keep in touch with Uncle while I’m locked up. The only person I do want to hide from is a million miles away.