Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“What’s that?”
“If you’re gonna work in this place, I want you takin’ some self-defense courses down at the gun shop, okay? Ruger teaches them, and he’s good at what he does. Maybe learn about guns, too.”
She frowned at me. “Why should I need to know how to shoot?”
“Why should you need to know self-defense at all?” I countered reasonably. “Because the world is dangerous and you got attacked. It’ll make me feel a lot better. Do it.”
Mel’s eyes narrowed.
“Please.” I added, rolling my eyes. She shrugged.
“All right. Although I was planning to anyway. Take a class, I mean. I never want to feel that helpless again.”
I smiled, knowing I’d won whether she wanted to admit it or not. “How much longer are you stuck here?”
“Just until they check me out.”
“I’ll wait and give you a ride home. We can explain to Izzy together. You look like you need sleep. Want me to take her for the night?”
Melanie’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, that would be lovely. Asshole.”
“Bitch.”
“I’d say ‘Get a room,’ but you’ve already got one. Want me to stand guard outside the door?”
We both turned to find Puck watching us, his dark face grim. I caught the hint of laughter in his eyes, though. Next to him stood Braids.
“The doctor will be here in five,” she said. “Maybe the baby daddy should wait outside?”
I laughed.
“Yeah, I’ll do that. You’re on my bike going home, Mel. It’ll be just like old times.”
She flipped me off and Puck burst out laughing. I followed him into the hallway, leaning back against the wall, feeling strangely satisfied with myself.
“You get off on baiting her, don’t you?”
I shrugged, refusing to acknowledge the point, even if it was the truth. Hell, it was better than not getting off at all.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ONE MONTH AFTER IZZY’S FOURTH BIRTHDAY
JULY
MELANIE
“You’re so hot, Mel,” Greg whispered, running his hands down my ass. He pulled me tight into his body, swaying awkwardly to the music, and I wondered if he was really the player Sherri insisted he had to be.
All firefighters are players, she’d told me. So have fun with him, but don’t get your hopes up. You need someone stable. That new security guard keeps flirting with you . . .
I didn’t want to believe her, though. Me and Greg would be perfect for each other—like a storybook. He was also an EMT, and I’d seen him on and off at work for months now. Handsome, built . . . sort of rough and ready in a way that I didn’t like to admit totally turned me on, but it did. It so did.
He reminds you of Painter, my brain whispered insidiously.
Shut up, bitch! my vagina hissed back. He’s probably got a really nice dick.
You’re drunk. Stop being such a slut.
You’re a cock-blocker—we haven’t had sex in forever!
I blinked, realizing my brain was 100 percent right—I was definitely drunk, because why the hell else would I be imagining an argument with my vagina in the middle of a dance floor?
Pull your shit together, Mellie girl.
Greg had asked me out to the Ironhorse for a drink (which had turned into many drinks) and now it was nearly midnight. The music wasn’t great, but the crowd was into it and I was having a good time—a good enough time that I’d been giving serious thought to going home with him. Well, serious something. “Thought” might not be the best word, seeing as things had gotten pretty damned fuzzy after that last round of shots. But I was definitely turned on and it’d been a long time since I’d gotten laid. Not since the dentist . . . ugh. That’d been a mistake.
He was so . . . clean.
Greg nuzzled into my neck, then I felt something warm and sort of icky. Oh. My. God. Was he licking me? He was. He was licking me, like some sort of dog. Okay, so maybe going home with him wasn’t such a good idea.
All this was processing through my drunken head when suddenly Greg was gone. I nearly fell over as a hard arm wrapped around my waist, jerking me back into a tall, strong body that smelled like leather and just the faintest hint of linseed oil.
“Time to go now, Greg,” said a familiar voice. I blinked, trying to figure out what was happening. Greg stared at me, something like horror crossing his face.
“She’s yours?” he asked.
“Mother of my kid,” Painter replied, his voice hard. “You lookin’ to get laid, Greg? You want to fuck my Izzy’s mama? Let me guess—you want to do all kinds of dirty shit to my girl. How you think that’s gonna end for you?”
Greg’s eyes filled with terror, and then he was backing off so fast I’m surprised I didn’t hear a “meep meep” and a whooshing noise.
“Sorry, Painter. Meant no disrespect.”