Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
I pull up outside the cinnamon bun shack and get out to open up. I’m back in a fresh and clean stripper outfit—aka the bun shop uniform—and I’m sweating the minute I step inside. God, I can’t wait until West fixes this freaking AC.
I’ve just finished setting up and opening the window for business, when there’s a knock at the back door. I grin like an idiot, beaming as I skip to the back door and open it cringingly fast. But West doesn’t look at me like I’m a dork with a crush. He grins at me widely, and those eyes burn right into me.
“Hey again,” he growls.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“I’m back to cool you down.” He grins.
I blush bright red.
“Hopefully I do a better job than last night,” he purrs. I blush even deeper, biting my lip at the double meaning of his words.
“I think you did a pretty good job,” I say thickly. I can’t believe I’m talking to him like this, but he brings this out in me. He’s making me want to be sultry, and sexy, and it’s a thrill I’ve never felt before.
“Until we were interrupted,” he rumbles.
I swallow thickly as he steps inside, closing the door behind him. My breath catches with him standing over me like this, so freaking close to me that I just want him to reach out and grab me.
“Until that,” I whisper back.
He frowns slightly. “How old are you?”
I grin, feeling that temptress inside of me roaring out at his closeness.
“How old do you think I am?” I purr back, trying to be sexy.
His lips purse. “I think I don’t want to play that fucking game at all.”
I grin. “I’m eighteen.”
“Sure about that,” he grunts.
“Want to see my ID?”
“Yes.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m eighteen, okay? It’s fine.”
He shrugs, and I sigh. “Okay, fine, jeez.” I march over to the rack of shelves by the storage closet and grab my wallet out of my purse.
“Here,” I giggle, handing him the ID.
He takes it and groans. “Jesus.”
“What?”
“Your birthday was like two months ago.” He looks up at me with a frown, but even I can see the hunger in his eyes.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “See? Eighteen.” I bite my lip, feeling wild and reckless as I step closer to him. “Barely,” I whisper.
West groans deeply, savagely.
“And you’re Matt’s niece.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Unfortunately. He’s kind of a disgusting creep.”
“Yeah, picked up on that.” West grins, rolling his eyes.
“So, you just always wanted to work at a cinnamon bun shop?”
“Oh, definitely,” I throw back dryly. “Just like you always wanted to fix air conditioners and get all dirty and sweaty.”
He grins. “Maybe I did. Maybe I like being dirty and sweaty.”
“Well maybe I love being sticky.”
God, if my mouth could just shut the fuck up sometimes, that’d be great.
“You guys open?”
Mercifully, I’m saved from my own word vomit by a customer at the window. I glance back at West, and I shudder when I see the heat in his eyes.
“Better get to work,” he growls quietly. “Looks like it’s going to be another hot one today.”
Tell me about it…
Regretfully, I make my way to the front of the shop, and another day in sweaty, sugar-frosted paradise begins. The first few customers are fine, followed by some real annoying touristy types. About half an hour in, though, suddenly a guy in all black strolls up to the window.
“Hi!” I smile. “What can I get you today?”
He grins wickedly. “How about you show me those tits?”
I blink, my jaw dropping. “Excuse me?”
He laughs. “Tits, baby. And while you’re at it…”
It happens to fast, I don’t even see him reach into his belt. But suddenly, right there pointed right at me, is a gun. My heart stops, and it feels like the whole freaking world just pauses around me.
“Open the register, honey,” the guy growls. “And I want every fucking cent or I’m gonna put a fucking hole in that pretty little—”
He grunts as something slams into him, tackling him right over the counter and slamming him into the ground outside. I gasp, and it takes me a second to realize it’s West, who’s just jumped through the freaking takeout window to tackle the guy.
West roars, kicking the guys gun away and straddling his chest. His fists rain down onto the would-be robber, bloodying his face as the guy groans in pain. West whips his head around, pausing as his eyes lock onto mine.
“Are you hurt?” He growls thickly.
I slowly shake my head. “No,” I whisper, my voice feeling like it’s coming through cotton.
Suddenly, tires squeal, and a big black van screeches to a stop about forty feet from the front of the shack. Four guys in black jump out, and my jaw drops when I realize they’re all holding machine guns.
“Down!”
West roars and hurdles through the takeout window. I scream as his huge arms bear hug me, and he tackles me to the ground as thunder suddenly erupts through the air. Glass explodes and shatters around us, and I can hear people screaming out on the pier.