Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I used to steal them from the bar I worked at. I’d go home and make soup with them—a little sugar, some water, stick it in the microwave, then drizzle it with a stolen coffee creamer and, if I was lucky, I might even have a pilfered package of oyster crackers to go with it.”
“Times must have been tough when you were starting out.”
“They were.”
“Did you ever think about giving up?”
“Sure.” She ate a French fry. “A few times I even packed my bags. Called my mom and begged her to send me money for a bus ticket home. But she always talked me into staying. She believed in me. That helped.” She popped another fry in her mouth. “Then I got a manager who believed in me.”
“Still, you had the talent. I mean, you have the talent.”
She shrugged. “Tons of people have talent. I’m not an idiot. I don’t think I’m the best singer that ever walked the earth. I just . . . I understand people. I can read a room—even a huge room—and I know how to make a person feel like I’m singing just for them.”
I studied her across the table, thinking that it also didn’t hurt she was so fucking pretty. I remembered the way she’d sung in the car, soft and low, and wondered about other sounds she’d make in other settings, such as a bedroom where she was naked and sprawled beneath me, my body moving over hers.
Quickly, I picked up my beer, looking away as I drank.
What was the matter with me? It was this damn dry spell. I normally didn’t go so long without sex, but there hadn’t been anyone in my bed since I’d moved home. Between living with my dad, wanting to avoid small town gossip, and working so much, I hadn’t really had the opportunity. Maybe once these two weeks were up, I’d remedy that.
But messing around with Kelly was out of the question. It would break all kinds of personal rules and violate the trust her brother had placed in me.
I needed to keep my thoughts clean and my hands to myself.
We finished our meals and a second round of beers, and when the check came, I reached for it.
“You don’t have to buy my dinner, Xander,” Kelly said, trying to tug it out of my hands. “This isn’t a real date, remember?”
“I remember,” I said, winning the battle and holding it out of her reach. “But even on a fake date, I pay for dinner. Consider it a perk.”
Her head tilted. “Any other perks I should know about? Massages? Manicures? Maybe a bedtime story?”
“No,” I said emphatically, sliding my credit card into the holder.
“Well, at least let me buy you a drink at the bar before we go.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. It’s too crowded in there. And the later it gets, the more it will fill up with drunk assholes.”
“Come on. Please?” She clasped her hands under her chin. “I never get to do this—just hang out on a Friday night. No one knows me here, I’ll face the wall, I’ll keep my little disguise on—” She lowered the bill of the cap and peeked right and left. “I won’t even get up and dance on the bar.”
Exhaling, I sat back and folded my arms. It was a bad sign that I couldn’t say no to her. “If I say so, we leave immediately.”
She made an X on her chest. “I will do as you command, cross my heart.”
Great, now I had ideas.
When the bill was paid, we went back into the bar, which was hot, loud, and packed. I kept Kelly in front of me, steering her through the mob of people standing shoulder to shoulder, trying to get close enough to the bar to order. Every time some guy looked at her, I did my best to scare him off with a menacing glare. Possibly a growl.
I managed to get close enough to the bar to catch Eric’s eye and signal for two beers, and he nodded, handing them over a moment later. Giving them to Kelly, I dug some cash from my wallet and shouted for Eric to keep the change. Then I took Kelly by the shoulders again and shepherded her back to our corner.
“You were supposed to let me pay.” She pouted and hugged the beers to her chest. “I should refuse to give you one of these.”
“Sorry.” My eyes scanned the rowdy drinkers pressing close behind her. “I just wanted to get away from the bar quickly. Too many people.”
“Fine. Have one.” She relinquished one of the bottles to me and clinked hers to it. “Here’s to our fake date—although it’s the realest one I’ve been on in a long time.”
“Me too.” We each took a long pull.