Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Despite that it’s well past midnight and colder than a witch’s tit, the streets of the city are teeming with people. As they walk past us, they curiously turn to watch without breaking stride. It takes a lot more than a mountain of a man, famous or not, and a woman with smoke coming out her ears to get their full attention. One lingers longer than necessary.
“Nothing to see here,” I growl. My glare convinces the onlooker to skedaddle.
“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is soft, his tone earnest. My attention immediately returns to him. I almost can’t believe my ears. He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding mine. “I’m really, really sorry––I was havin’ a bad day.” A light southern twang hangs on the last few words. “I’m in a real bind…my nephew…” His voice trails off. His eyes are back on me, suddenly warm and searching. And for the first time since we’ve met, I may not hate his guts.
We stand there awkwardly, studying each other for ten agonizing minutes until he looks away. I’m freezing my butt off and I’m wearing a down jacket––all he’s wearing is a button down. Biting on the inside of his cheek, he says, “What if I paid you a hundred thousand up front––not in three payments. You can walk away any time you want, after three days or three months, and you still get to keep the money.” He doesn’t look at me, choosing to stare at the brick wall of the building next to us instead. I watch the warm air he breathes out form clouds around him as I mentally picture giving my parents back half of their retirement fund. My shoulders begin to sag under the weight of defeat, guilt eating away at the entrails of my pride. I don’t have the strength to turn him down one more time.
“You can drive me to the ferry on the west side.”
His head whips around and his eyes slam into mine, questioning if this is a tacit agreement to his offer––which it basically is. Without a word, I walk slowly to the passenger side of his car. I hear a thump, thump, thump right behind me and turn abruptly. Only to have my face almost crash into the wall also known as his chest.
“Jezus,” I say half horrified at the thought of touching him in any way, shape, or form. Surprisingly, he remains quiet, never taking his alert gaze off of me. Before I can reach for the handle, he opens the car door. I slide in and buckle up without looking or thanking him because part of me is bitter as all get out that I’ve lost once again. Not my best moment, I know, but I’m tired and cold and feel like I’ve just relinquished the last bit of my self-respect. I can’t be nice right now…I just can’t.
He gets in and starts the car. I don’t dare look at him. God forbid I find him gloating, the next phone call I place will be from county jail. The car is warm and quiet; a cozy, luxurious cocoon. And admittedly a much better way to travel than the ferry bus. Now that my nose has thawed, a subtle masculine scent hits me all at once. It reminds me of my husband.
My memories of Matt are complicated by the push and pull of conflicting emotions. How much I miss him, how mad I am at him, the guilt I still carry, the overwhelming amount of shame. Suddenly, I’m on the verge of tears and bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to break skin. Adding to my discomfort, he drives slowly down the West Side Highway. On purpose, I wonder? I certainly don’t put it past him.
“Sam likes you,” he blurts out. This is all he keeps repeating. But I get it. Sam seems to be the only thing we agree on––a safe topic.
“And I like him, which is the only reason I’m considering doing this.”
His bunned head turns toward me. “Then you’ll do it?”
No point in arguing further. “Against my better judgment, Mr. Shaw, I’ll do it.”
I notice his massive shoulders sag. He settles deeper into his seat, one big hand rubbing his thigh. “Good.”
“With some major stipulations.” I turn a little in my seat to watch his reaction. I find him staring straight ahead, his expression in deep freeze…clearly bracing for the worst. “One more insult, one more slightly off color remark and I’m gone.” He nods a little too quickly at this. I doubt he can last more than a day, however, I’ll let him prove me right. “And I want the full amount in my checking account the day I move in.” I expect him to give me grief about it, but get another short nod instead. “And I want to keep my Thursday and Friday night shifts at One Maple.”