Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Shew,” I let out a relieved breath now that I’m coasting into the well-lit parking lot of a gas station. One of those big ones right off the main artery in our small town, it’s a chain, has a trucker area, and a fast food joint on the side. Any other day, I’d splurge and get a fountain Coke with the good ice and maybe a side of French fries, but since my checking account is practically rolling zeroes, that’s not gonna happen. My savings account has a measly amount of money and probably not nearly enough for a down payment for a car, let alone floating a car payment, which is going to be nearly impossible. It’d be really helpful if Chris could catch up on a child support payment or ten, then maybe I’d be able to feel like the debt I’m drowning in isn’t suffocating me.
My car dies the minute I place it Park, lights out, key in the ignition, and forget about trying to turn the key any way but off. I lose it. Every fiber of my being comes out as I beat on the wheel so hard the palms of my hands will likely end up bruised. I grip it and shake my head, hair bouncing, blood boiling, and I let out a cacophony of noises, “Stupid, motherfucking, cock-sucking, blood-sucking piece of shit! Why is life choosing to screw with me!” My feet bounce up and down as I stomp my heels. I’m literally throwing a temper tantrum. At least Briar, my brother, or his plethora of buddies aren’t here to watch me in all my spectacular-ness. Just as I’m winding down from my tirade, I hear a tap, tap, tap. I whip my head toward the noise and am about lose my shit some more at what I see. Of all the luck a woman can have, she can’t even have a boo-hoo bash, woe-is-me misery fest, or whatever the hell you call it, alone.
“Son of a biscuit, you scared the shit out of me, Trent Hawthorne. What in the hell?” I say through the closed window. I go to hit the button to roll the window down when I remember my car is shut off and now, I’m left with the only option of opening the door and sliding out.
“That’s quite a mouth you’ve got on you, Kennedy.” He takes a step back, so I can open the door. I take the keys out of the ignition, drop them in the cupholder, and slide out. A few seconds later, I’m standing in front of him after hip-checking the door and using it as a prop to keep me upright. I’m unprepared for the smirk Trent sends my way, the slight lift of one corner of his lips, a teasing glance at what is probably the most devastatingly handsome smile a guy could send a girl’s way.
“I learned from the best,” I reply, a slight tremble in my voice. This happens every single time he’s near. My insides quiver and I’ll usually find a reason to retreat, except lately, it’s been impossible, especially right now.
“Yeah, you’re right about that.” Trent should know. Even though my brother and his friends tried to shield me from their crazy antics, it never worked. Any chance I got to tag along with them, I took it. As the years went on and I matured, the less I was left out. It also meant drinking with the guys, playing baseball with the adult league they formed, and hearing them talking shit about one another to each other. You kind of become accustomed and immune to their line of crap.
What it doesn’t prepare you for is the realization of feelings you never felt before, causing you to slowly dissociate, and the object of my affections is standing right in front of me.
Trent Hawthorne has always been the one you want but can never have.
He’s unattainable.
He’s unreachable.
He’s everything a woman could ever want yet will never have.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. There’s still so much I need to do. You know, like call a tow truck driver. Again. Call someone for a ride because if anyone ever found out I rode with a stranger, whether it’s hired or not, I’d be in for a very rude awakening. One I don’t need or want. Which means I need to shut this conversation down and get this shit show on the road.
“Getting gas before heading home. You?” Trent is standing there in business casual attire. As a detective in the Oak County Police Department, the city where the station is located, a bigger one outside of Whispering Oaks, he makes the commute back and forth. Which isn’t very far considering the interstate runs through both areas. Still, it makes for weird hours, weirder than my brother’s, who’s a firefighter. It also includes a different wardrobe, that of business casual compared to what I usually see him in on his days off.