Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
I look around the café, and Maggie Richard looks at Jason with disgust. She's like the town gossip, and there's no doubt it will be all over Whiskey Run by morning. I lean in and whisper loudly to him, "Don't call me that."
I don't wait for him to say anything. I get out a slice of strawberry pie and slide it across the top of the glass to him. I know what he’s going to get without him even saying it.
He reaches for it, and I pull back quickly, not wanting our fingers to touch. Jason has been coming in here for weeks now, flirting with me every time he sees me. I've resisted every time, but I have to admit he's breaking down my defenses. "Where's everybody else at?" I ask.
He takes a bite of his pie, chews, and swallows. "Surely you're not hoping to see another biker. I'm it today, Mama."
I roll my eyes and let out a big huff of frustration. "Will you please quit calling me that? I'm not a mom, your mom, or anyone’s mom."
He lets out a small chuckle as he takes another bite of the strawberry pie. He moans and points at it with his fork. "Man, this is the best pie I've eaten." He leans across the counter and covers my hand with his. "And the reason I call you Mama is because you're going to be the mom to my kids one day. So I'm just testing it out."
I suck in a breath and go hot all over. I know it's a joke. Heck, it's ridiculous for him to even say seeing as how we haven’t known each other long, but it still causes a pull in my lower belly. I blink at him. "You shouldn't say things like that to me."
He eats the last bite of pie and lays the empty plate on the counter with a crisp $20 bill. I grab up the money and go to the register, and he follows me down to the other end. I push in the buttons and get his change out and try to hand it to him, but instead of taking it, he wraps my hand around it. "Keep it. That's for you."
I turn my head to the side and look at him. "Jason, I can't take your money. You can’t leave a sixteen dollar tip on a four dollar piece of pie."
He just watches me, and I know by the look he's giving me he is not going to take no for an answer. I hold the money up. "Thank you," I say before stuffing it in my apron pocket.
As I watch him, I can't help but think why is he so hot? Maybe if he wasn't as good-looking, I wouldn't be half as tempted to like him. Ever since I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, Mark, I've told myself to stay single. Some men lie, some men cheat, some men steal. Mark did them all. I was dumb and naïve to put up with it for as long as I did, and that's why I'm trying to be strong and stay away from Jason.
I grab a towel from behind the counter and start wiping the glass. It's something that we have to do 30 to 40 times a day because everyone that comes in puts their fingers on the glass, and we want to keep it clean so that they can see the pastries in the case. Without looking at him, I tell him, "I need to get back to work."
Jason reaches over and puts his hand on mine. "Look at me, Mama. I mean, Tara."
My eyes flick up to his, and I try to hide the disappointment. Even though I know it's not appropriate for him to call me that, I think I might miss it. "What is it?" I ask him.
He searches my eyes, and I brace myself for what might come out of his mouth next. He surprises me, though. "I need to take some pastries back to the clubhouse.”
I pull my hand back and grab some to-go containers. “What would you like?"
He's not taking his eyes off me. “It doesn't matter to me. Just fill them up.”
I do as he asks, filling up each of the little boxes. I make sure to put in extra slices of strawberry pie because I know he likes them. But I ignore his little hum of approval. I tape the pretty pink boxes closed and ring him up again. It's obvious Emery is trying to give us space. She's still across the café talking to people at a corner table. I glance at the total and read it off to him. He pays and takes the change this time. When I hand him the money, I drop it into his hand and pull back. I know I’m being ridiculous, but I really am a little nervous that it wouldn’t take much for me to give in to him. If anything, a soft caress from his hand would probably do it.