Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“That’s because we’re at a stalemate. She won the case that would give her a chance to prove that she was entitled to half that money. But then I won one just after that when I explained what she’d done with the money—that information you found on her before you left has come in right handy. She keeps appealing it and making us go to a different court. Then she stalls. Then she comes up with new evidence. Then she stalls some more. I seriously think she’s just hoping that I give up and let her have half because I’m getting pissed that it’s taking so long,” I mumbled darkly, hating the reminder that my aunt was a supreme bitch.
“But you won’t,” he said. “I’ll make sure that you won’t.”
I grinned at him. “I appreciate that.”
Then there was no more talking because the man in front of me was given his food, and he inhaled it like it was going to be taken away from him at any moment.
In fact, I was barely a quarter of the way through my single burger and fries when he finished off the second hamburger. By the time that I finished off my food, he’d been done for ten minutes.
“You eat really fast,” I found myself saying.
His eyes colored to something darker. “Had to eat fast in there. Didn’t know from day to day whether there’d be a riot to make you not eat for a day. Or a fight that had them messing up your food. Or even a man that tried to act badass and take it straight out from under you. I learned to eat fast. Everybody did.”
I hated that for him.
But, not knowing what to say to that, I chose to clean up our trash.
He helped, and soon we were once again heading out of the store.
“Where to now?” I asked.
He didn’t answer at first, his eyes going around the parking lot as we made our way outside.
“Google barber shops,” he ordered.
I did and found one that was close.
When we arrived, it was to see a line of people waiting to get done.
“Fuck,” he grumbled darkly.
I looked over at him in concern.
“Here,” I said, handing him my phone. “You can play on this while you wait. I’ll read my paperback that I got at the grocery store yesterday.”
After he took it, I twisted around in my seat and searched through the bags that I’d left in the car because I was too lazy to haul them inside.
Finding my book, I twisted back around into my seat before saying, “Let me go check you in. Then I’ll wait in the car with you.”
Then I was gone, unaware that he had his eyes glued to my ass the entire time. Or that I’d given him a show.
After checking him in, I went back to the car and sat on the hood, waiting to hear Hunt’s name be called.
It was only twenty minutes later, when he was finally able to get into a chair, that I realized that I had a problem.
He was sauntering toward the seat that the barber had indicated, and my eyes were on his ass.
The plain gray sweatpants that I’d bought him fit him like a glove, and the shirt was almost a little too snug.
They clung to him in all the right places, and the only thing stopping me from going over the edge had been his rough appearance.
But, as the barber sat Hunt down in his chair and started to clean him up, I realized that with each inch of hair that they cut off, the more appealing he became to me.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. All scruffy and rough looking, he was attractive as hell.
But him with a trim haircut, clean beard, and overall sexy appearance?
It was my undoing.
I was nearly squirming in my seat when the final product was unveiled.
“The beard, too,” Hunt said when the barber went to unbutton the cape around him. “Not all the way off, but cleaned up. Professional looking.”
Dear God.
What was he doing to me?
Over the last few years that I’d been visiting him, the beard had gotten progressively longer and longer. Unkempt. Making him appear rough around the edges.
And I’d only thought that I had a thing for the beard and the long hair. A ‘he’s bad’ vibe wafted off of him every time I’d watched him walk into the visiting room at the prison.
But when the barber whipped the cape off ten minutes later, his hair now pristinely cut in a medium fade, longer on top and fading to a buzz down the sides of his head, my heart was pounding.
And then he turned around and looked at me.
Almost as if he was making sure I was still there.
That’s when I saw his beard.
It took my breath away.