Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I jog over to my truck, needing to be at the shop before it closes in—I check my phone—six minutes. Fuck. I can make it, as long as I don’t hit any traffic. I fucked up my tire on a pothole, and this place is the only one in town that carries the right tires for my truck. Driving on it is sketchy, but I had to be at Bad Intentions for a twelve o’clock appointment.
I jump in, throwing it in drive, and haul ass toward the shop. The sun is already setting over the lake, and I squint my eyes against the rays peeking through the pine trees that stab at my vision. I pull up with a minute to spare and hope that the old bastard didn’t decide to close early. Businesses here run on River’s Edge time. Which means, you can’t fucking count on anything to be open when they’re supposed to be. If they’re not busy—or if they want to pack it up and call it a day early—they can, and they will. I like money too much to run my shop like that. More than that, I know what it’s like to have none. And I don’t ever plan to go back to that life.
The door chimes when I walk in, but it’s not Doris, the eighty-year-old smart ass that usually works the front desk that I see. It’s someone much younger and, I’ll admit, much better looking. It’s the chick from the shop earlier, and she’s standing with her arms folded across her chest, facing the door behind the desk. I can see her profile, not missing the generous curve of her ass in those tight pants, but she doesn’t notice me.
“Well, that was fast,” I say, pushing back my hood, then tugging the beanie off my head and running a hand through my hat hair. Her head whips around, and her scowl deepens at the sight of me. So she remembers me. I’m flattered. “Found a job already?”
“No,” is all she says. Before she turns back around, I see the tan-ish purple ring around her eye that I didn’t notice earlier. Who gave this chick a black eye?
“Okay, then. Is Henry in?”
“Definitely no,” she says, throwing my words from earlier back at me.
“Touché.”
Henry walks in from the back, wiping his perma-greased hands onto a grimy white rag.
“I see you’ve met my daughter, Logan,” he starts, shooting me a look that says not even he knows what he got himself into.
His daughter? Fuck.
“I didn’t know you had a kid.”
“Neither did he, apparently,” she mutters.
“Don’t listen to her. I have two, but it’s been…a while since I’ve seen them.”
“Ten years. Time just gets away from you, huh, Pops?” Logan deadpans.
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline, my eyes bouncing between them like I’m watching a tennis match. They go back and forth for a minute before I chime in and ask about the tires. I decided to get a whole new set since I have to replace the one, and they’re getting pretty bald anyway. Henry, thankful for the interruption, lets me know that they did come in.
“But my guy called in sick, and I’ve been all booked up, so we’ll squeeze you in first thing in the morning. What time does your place open?”
Awesome. Note the sarcasm.
“Noon.”
“Since my darling daughter here helped herself to one of my vehicles, she can repay me by giving you a ride home. You can leave your truck here, and I’ll have it done by ten thirty, eleven tomorrow.”
I almost say no. But Logan’s eyes beg me to do just that, and for some reason, I want to do the opposite. Plus, I need to get this done as soon as possible.
My lips slowly stretch into a wide smile.
“Deal.”
Logan takes an angry swipe at the keys on top of the counter and storms outside.
“My chariot awaits,” I say with a shrug.
“Good luck,” Henry mumbles under his breath. “And try to be nice to her, will ya? She hasn’t had the easiest life. If you think she’s crazy, you should meet her mother.”
I give him a nod and hand him my keys before turning to leave.
I jump into the passenger side of the only other vehicle besides Henry’s and mine, but she doesn’t speak, or even look at me. I take her in, really looking at her for the first time. Long, wild, dark hair. Porcelain skin. Tiny frame. Her big, innocent, hazel eyes betray her caustic front. I haven’t spent more than five minutes with this girl, but I can already tell she’s the type of crazy I need to stay far away from. This morning, she was all sunshine and rainbows when she came into the shop, but it didn’t take much for her true colors to come out.