Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Shock smacks me hard in the face when she only contemplates my question for half a second before shaking her head. “Anything you need to say can be said here.”
“Jess…”
“Caleb,” she mimics, her voice way too throaty for anyone not to imagine how she’d sound if she were moaning it.
After a quick swallow, I un-ball my hands, then say matter-of-factly, “You need to drink more water.”
Jess cups her ear before angling her head to the side. “Sorry, what was that?”
She heard me. She’s just acting as petty as I have multiple times over the past two-plus years. Since it was easier to avoid her than explain why I can’t look at her without seeing my grandfather, I dodged her like she has the clap.
After a quick exhale, I repeat, “I said you need to drink more water.”
Jess arches a brow. “Water?”
“Yes. Water.” I stare at her in warning. I’m not playing. I’ve seen a lot of shit go down here the past year and a half, and I refuse to watch it happen to someone I care about.
There, I said it. I care about Jess.
More than I will ever admit.
“But this has water in it, Caleb.” Sticky liquid sloshes onto Jess’s hand when she thrusts her drink into her face to ‘read’ the invisible label. “Water, cranberries, and vodka. What more does a girl need?”
Not even the world’s deepest bass could hide my growl when she tosses back the remainder of her drink without coming up for air, and the asshat behind her cheers her defiance. He claps and hollers like he was paid to grind her curves before signaling for one of his mates to get her another round.
“She’s done.”
After yanking a giggling Jess out of the douchebag’s hold, I toss her onto my shoulder, then bark out orders like I own the place. “Get the fuck out of my club.” I shift my hooking thumb from the man who’s so drunk he licks his lips while drinking in Jess’s almost bare legs like I won’t knock him out for it to Octavia. “You… call an Uber. And you…” I slap Jess’s ass to make sure her attention is on me, “… are going to sit behind the bar and sober up until it gets here.”
“Caleb—”
“The time for talking was before you let your friend get drunk enough to think he was a good idea. Not now.” The guy almost argues, but something on my face must tell him that it wouldn’t end well for him because a second after I lock eyes with him, he holds his hands in the air in defeat and backs away into the crowd.
“If he gets lost, show him the way out,” I demand to one of the bouncers before plonking Jess’s backside onto a milk crate at the side of the bar and fetching one of the empty lime buckets from the hidden galley kitchen behind her.
Jess is so out of it, her chin balances on the bucket when I prop it under her head to catch anything that may erupt without notice, but she’s conscious enough to sense my presence.
“Caleb…”
I push back the strands of dark hair clinging to her beautiful face before dropping my eyes to her glassy ones. “Yeah.”
I’m anticipating a ‘thanks’ or a murmured, “you’re an asshole,” so all I do is chuckle when she mutters, “My butt hurts. You spank hard,” before she passes out.
“Please don’t force me to ask you again.” When the patron who is meant to be seated on the other side of the bar instead of on it rakes her nails across my torso, I yank her hand away from my chest with more force than intended. It can’t be helped. I am pissed. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
I could set her hand back onto her half of the bar less aggressively, but my patience is stretched thin. Jess has been hugging a bucket for the past two hours. Octavia is asleep next to her, and even though I’ve asked this specific patron over a dozen times not to touch me, she continually ignores my request.
I stop searching for an answer as to why that seems familiar when the blonde squawks nasally, “What is your issue? I’m just trying to be nice.”
Before I can reply, a little firecracker at my side pipes up on my behalf. “You can be nice without touching someone.”
The woman scoffs at Jess’s claim with a sneer, “Go back to your bucket, barf girl. This has nothing to do with you.”
I’m grateful the bucket is empty when Jess kicks it out of her way while charging for the bar. “But if it were him touching you without permission, would you want someone to stand up for you?”
I realize it was a waste of time asking the blonde for ID when she screws up her face. “Well, obviously. That’s assault.”