Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
We needed less drama in the Whittaker family, not more. I hated to admit it, but this disaster of a date might’ve been a good thing. I liked Rome—liked him a lot—and if I ended up back in Hallies Falls, it’d be way too easy to get addicted to those kisses of his. Now I had a great big shiner to remind me why those kisses were dangerous.
Things had settled back down in the bar. The ambulance had arrived with the cops, and I could see the EMTs rolling Rome’s patient onto a backboard. Both of the cowboys who’d come over the fence were facedown on the ground, arms cuffed behind them. Peaches was busy cleaning up the mess, and quite a few of the remaining patrons were helping her set the chairs and tables to rights.
Astoundingly, the band was back up on the stage, and while they hadn’t started playing yet, they clearly weren’t packing up their instruments, either.
Crazypants.
I couldn’t see Rome anywhere, so I headed for the bathroom to assess the damage. I’d made it about halfway when Peaches looked up and saw me. Her eyes went wide. Then she dropped her broom and charged over to me.
“What the hell happened?” she demanded, catching my shoulders hard enough to hurt. I flinched, and she loosened her grip, but she didn’t let me go.
“Flying cowboy,” I said, feeling suddenly tired. “Oh, and a beer bottle attacked me from the ground.”
Peaches raised a brow, then let go of one shoulder to raise a finger in front of my face.
“Follow this with your eyes,” she said, waving it back and forth.
“Why?” I asked, obediently following the finger.
“Checking for head injuries,” she said. “Either you hallucinated a flying cowboy or you actually got hit by one. Neither scenario is comforting.”
I frowned. “No, I think my head is fine. Whacked the hell out of my face, but I’ve had a concussion before, and this doesn’t feel like that.”
Peaches nodded, apparently satisfied. “Let’s get some ice for that eye. C’mon.”
I followed her to the bar like an obedient puppy, because ice sounded really nice. The initial, throbbing pain had died down a little, but the swelling was getting worse, bringing a whole new kind of discomfort.
Making up an ice pack didn’t take Peaches long. I settled in with it on a bar stool, watching the cops haul out the guys who’d climbed over the fence. Suddenly I remembered the young couple outside.
“Hey,” I said to Peaches. “You have some underage kids hiding on the patio. They’re scared shitless that the cops will catch them.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake. Like we need more crap going wrong tonight. I keep telling Gus that we have to get serious about fake IDs, but he’s owned the place for thirty years and doesn’t think it’s a big deal. We’re gonna lose our fucking liquor license if we aren’t careful.”
“So what should they do?” I asked. “I told them to wait out there. Said I’d let them know when it was safe.”
“I’ll take care of them,” Peaches said, sighing. “For the record, it really sucks that the tips are so good here. I’d love to find a different job, but I don’t think I could take the pay hit.”
Strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and I felt a warm, solid body press against mine. Rome was back. I wanted to lean into his strength more than anything. My brain might’ve decided he was a mistake, but my body wasn’t quite there yet.
“What happened to—” he started to ask, but the words cut off abruptly as I twisted my face to look up at him. His eyes went hard. Then he very gently caught my chin in his hand, studying my eye. “Who did this?”
I couldn’t help but flick a glance toward the cowboys on the floor.
“I’ll fucking kill them,” he snarled, starting toward them.
“No!”
I lunged for his shirt, catching the white fabric just in time for him to pull me off the stool. My head crashed into his thigh, sending new waves of pain radiating through my bruised face.
“Shit.” Rome lunged for me, catching me before I hit the ground. Settling me back on my feet, he wrapped his arms around my shaking body, holding me steady. Despite all my pain, the exhaustion, and the remnants of my Coors Light buzz, his arms still felt wonderful. I wanted to stay like this all night. Make him cuddle me and my ice pack while I had a good cry.
What the hell is wrong with you? Snap out of it!
I knew I should pull away, but up close his pheromones were like some potent drug I couldn’t resist. Then the crackle of the police radio broke through my thoughts, and I remembered why cuddling was such a bad idea.
“I want to go home,” I said into his chest, and in my mind the words sounded very firm and final. In reality they were more of a soft whimper.