Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Seeing her enjoyment of the chalk pushes me to grab the largest mixed box of colors they sell while answering, “I mainly live off of whatever it is I make myself, Trust Fund untouched.” The object clinks around upon its entry into the crowded basket that’s settled between my feet. “My savings account, which mainly consists of money deposited into it from some real estate investments I’ve made, birthday and Christmas gifts from my grandparents, my aunt and uncle, as well as my mother, is what I use to typically buy a ticket back to Highland for a trip to the doc or the therapist but on the occasion, if resources to get out of one place to get to another are lower than I’m comfortable with, I’ll dip into the funds for that. However, all other shit? Food, lodging, art supplies, ect ect ect? That’s bought with whatever I make doing, whatever work I’ve picked up where I am or whatever favors I’ve bartered. Bartending and busing tables and janitorial work are all the boring fallbacks I’ll go for when nothing else has come my way like working at a drive-in theater or a paranormal tour guide or being an assistant to a snake milker.”
“A snake milker?!” June squeals at the top of her lungs and sends her gaze to mine. “What the fuck is a snake milker?!”
“They drain venom of poisonous snakes into jars which will then be used for anti-venoms and other medication.”
“MotherofMonaLisa, seriously?!”
“Like seriously is that a job or seriously was I the assistant to someone who did that because either way, the answer is yeah.” Her jaw bobs for the second time today in speechlessness encouraging me to coo, “You know I really dig amazing you. It almost makes me feel like the shit I’ve done is worth hearing about it.”
“How could you ever doubt that it is?!”
“I don’t know. I guess most people I meet would rather tell stories than hear them and typically that’s enough for me, but for some reason, with you…it isn’t.”
“Well…you wanna hear me…” her body sways slightly closer to mine, “and I definitely wanna hear you.”
The hungry growl that creeps up the back of my throat is unfortunately short lived thanks to an unforeseen palm landing firmly on my shoulder. Instinct – both survival and trained – immediately kick in causing me to aggressively collect the fingers, harshly clamp them together, and sharply twist the hand of whoever they belong to as I step out of the way. Pinning their appendage behind their back occurs next along with me using my other hand to grab a fistful of their hair to assist in securing them against the shaky shelving.
Once the assailant is thoroughly restrained, I investigate the wellbeing of the only person who matters to me. “You good, June Bug?”
“The ninja shit was really scary but really sexy too,” she absentmindedly announces.
Not smirking is impossible. “I meant, do you have everything? Phone? Keys? Cards? That’s how pickpockets tend to work. Attacking while you’re distracted.”
“I’m not a pickpocket, you asshole,” gripes the lean, ivory skinned figure becoming better acquainted with the furniture. “I’m an old friend!”
“I don’t have friends,” she insists so quickly it creates an ache in my chest. “Err…I mean I do. I mean I do now. I have one.” June’s brown gaze begs mine to believe her. “I do! I really do! Her name is Jaye Jenkins and we’re supposed to get froyo next week and-”
“I’m an old friend of his!” barks the male in my custody.
The statement forces my frame to fold forward to better examine his face.
Old friend my ass.
Koose Koose and I are better fucking pals than this dickhead.
Letting go of him is done without reluctance as is sliding an arm around June’s waist to pull her away from his potential touch. “Couldn’t just say ‘hey’ like a normal person?”
He rubs the slightly injured shoulder at the same time he grouses, “Couldn’t you?”
June’s voice is airy, a sound that I’m hoping is caused by being pressed firmly against me. “You know him?”
“You could say that,” I mutter as I tuck her in even tighter. “Norman Hoff, June Bailey. June Bailey, Normal Hoff.”
His gray gaze momentarily roams around June’s tits that deserve better than his overly obnoxious, greedy glare.
“How about you stop eye-fucking my girlfriend and tell me what you want.”
“Girlfriend?” He sucks his teeth in tisking fashion. “Too bad, sweetheart. You’re almost pretty enough to be on the arm of a real artist rather than a starving one.”
See.
Fucking. Prick.
“Then it’s a good thing I actually am pretty enough to be on the arm of a real artist who isn’t starving for anything other than me,” she saucily sasses back, completely catching me off guard.
Well, I’ll be damned.
Turns out this little Venus has just been impressively hiding her goddess side.