Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
“Is there a way to do the Loser Special on the bucket of clams, Stitch?” I asked, sliding the ticket across the cold steel. “Or is it a waste of time to drop clams on the floor?”
Stitch was standing at the grill with his back to me, stirring up something in a sauce pan.
He turned his head after hearing my question, registered it with a jerk of his chin, then went back to staring at the sauce pan.
I leaned my elbow on the steel.
“I have no idea what that little chin jerk means, you know that, right?” I asked.
Stitch said nothing.
I turned my head to look at Shay.
She had moved on from filling salt and pepper shakers at the bar and was now passing time between tending to her patrons by sitting at a vacant table and rolling extra sets of silverware.
No one ever volunteered to roll silverware. You only did it when Nate asked you to.
I looked once again at Stitch, rolled up on my toes, and added for only him to hear, “She’s upset with you and she has reason to be. You bailed on her. And when girls are excited about something and that one thing they’re excited about falls through, they get disappointed and sometimes get quiet.”
I watched the silent man, all messy edge and lawless looks, leave that sauce pan and turn to face me. His eyes were hard and his nostrils were flaring with irritation.
“Never said I’d go,” he clipped, saying more than he’d ever said to me at once before, and if that didn’t make me highly interested in listening, it was the topic and tone of his voice that kept me invested and not ducking behind the bar. “She just assumed ’cause I didn’t say different when she was talkin’ about it, and that’s on her. I got no business bein’ at a party like that and she knows it, just like she’s got no business invitin’ me to one. What the fuck would I do there?”
I was staring and I was doing it with my eyes wide and my mouth dropped open.
Whoa.
Stitch had an extremely sexy voice hiding behind that beard.
Nice.
“Uh,” I stammered, then stated as if it was obvious, “You could’ve hung out with Shay.”
He shook his head and looked down at the prep station.
“Got no business doin’ that either,” he muttered. “Girl like that with that kinda light …” His voice trailed off, then he lifted his eyes, tensed his jaw, and said curtly, “Not talkin’ about this.”
My brows shot up.
I absolutely wanted to keep talking about this. What Stitch was saying was incredibly interesting and something I would definitely share with Shay.
He thought she had light. He also thought he wasn’t good enough to touch that light. I was hearing that loud and clear.
Shay was right. Stitch was sweet.
I wanted to jump through that window and hug the crap out of him.
But before I could do that or urge him into further conversation, he reached out and slammed his hand down on the steel, swiped the ticket, read the order quickly, then tacked it up along with the others before he turned around and supervised the sauce pan.
“Not much I can do with the clams,” he informed, facing away. “Droppin’ them on the floor ain’t gonna do what you’re lookin’ for it to do.”
I nodded at his back, deciding to be generous and letting Jamie off easy today. Mainly because Stitch seemed in the mood to get creative if I asked and I was scared to think what he’d come up with while standing back there alone and pining over Shay.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” I told him, rocking back onto my feet. “But if it’s not too much trouble, could you make those Southern stuffed shrimp extra yummy for my boy? He’s here.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, his arm moving as he stirred.
“With lots of love,” I added. “Not that I’m telling you how to cook, but maybe slip in an extra hush puppy?”
Stitch shook his head through a noisy exhale.
“Jesus Christ, I need a new fuckin’ job.”
I left that remark alone and stepped in front of the coffeemaker, grabbing a mug for Brian.
As long as Shay worked at Whitecaps, I had a feeling Stitch wasn’t going anywhere.
* * *
I was running my tongue along the underside of Brian’s cock as I knelt between his knees on the floor of his living room in front of the couch.
He’d dropped calling me “nut” so I was making good on my promise to suck him off, starting on that as soon as I got to his place after my shift ended.
I was moaning and taking him deep while fighting off the urge to press my fingers between my legs, knowing the second I did that I’d go off, enjoying the feel of his long, thick cock in my mouth so much that I was getting there without even trying. And Brian was fisting my hair and thrusting his hips, saying some of the hottest stuff to me as I worked him.