Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
I don’t go to the car, though. What did Milo mean?
I need to think.
I walk onto the green, between two trees, and stand still as the long shot of the sprinkler passes over my head. Water rains down on me, and I close my eyes and let my head fall back. A couple of nighthawks sing in the woods far ahead of me on the other side of the course, and I stay there as the sprinkler makes another round, and then another.
There’s a way out. That’s what Milo meant. For me, for the Jaegers, I don’t know, but if he were lying, he wouldn’t have been vague. He was being vague to taunt me.
The problem is I’m actually not that smart. I could have an aneurysm trying to crack this.
“I hate these people,” I say to myself. So many games. I hope Clay keeps Liv far away from it, because I would pity anyone marrying a Saint. Especially a Jaeger.
“Krisjen?” someone calls out.
I pop my eyes open and spin around as Army Jaeger emerges from the shadow between the trees.
I square my shoulders, watching him approach with his hands in his pockets and his eyes always steady. Like he never blinks.
He wears a forest-green T-shirt, the muscles in his chest just visible underneath, and I’ve always liked how his hair perpetually looks like he’s just a week or two overdue for a haircut.
What is he doing here?
I wipe the water and hair away from my eyes, glancing at Rafe still by the door, but I don’t see anyone else. I look back to Army. “Are you guys on call or something?” I grumble. “Someone needs an emergency lawn mowed in the middle of the night?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Ouch.”
But I can see the smile behind his feigned offense.
“Sorry,” I chuckle.
Iron’s got my claws out today. And then Milo. And then Jerome. He pulls out a wad of cash and hands it to me. “I just wanted to give this back to you.”
I take it, puzzled. I recognize the torn five-dollar bill as part of the tip money I gave Macon earlier tonight.
I try to hand it back. “I want to pay for the repairs.”
“You did. You worked. That’s all we needed.”
“And my Rover?”
He’s quiet, as if he’s waiting for me to answer my own question. My dad’s car only had a flat tire, but according to Iron, my Rover has a lot more that needs to be done to it. It’s going to cost a lot.
Then it hits me.
“I’m not working at Mariette’s full-time,” I tell him, slipping the money into my pocket. “I don’t belong there.”
“Too low-class for you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He narrows his eyes, takes a step into my space, and I back up, but he keeps coming. “Let me tell you something, Conroy.” He’s never called me by my surname before. “Mariette has been working that joint since she was eleven. She’s never left the state, much less the country. She had no choices, so you know what she did? She played the hand she was dealt. She’s there seven days a week and has created a fucking culture inside those four walls. It’s not a restaurant. It’s a home. Kids have celebrated birthdays there. Couples have laughed through wedding receptions there, and a shit ton of people have lost their virginity either in the bathroom or in the parking lot, so I’m not going to stand here and listen to a rich girl tell me that where Mariette has spent three-fourths of her life is worthless and that she’s too good to be a waitress there.”
He raises his eyebrows, challenging me as he looks down like he’s waiting for me to get a clue.
I didn’t realize my mouth was hanging open until it goes dry, and I have to swallow to generate saliva. He’s always so calm. “I meant … the Bay.” Heat breaks out across my neck. “I don’t belong in the Bay, because I’m using you to hide from my responsibilities. And my future. I like it too much there, to be honest. That’s what I meant.”
He stares down at me.
I would never think I was too good for Mariette’s. I’m positive I want to do something else with my life, but it’s not like I believe waitressing is beneath me, either. I just need to get serious and find a way to escape my parents without abandoning Mars and Paisleigh.
Army finally lets out a quiet laugh, his expression softening. “And we like you there,” he tells me. “You fit in. Most of the guys you served at lunch today are next door at the bar right now, talking about your smile. One called you ‘damned cute.’ Another said ‘pleasant.’ I even think the word ‘delightful’ was used at some point.”
I smile, laughing under my breath. It feels good to hear that.