Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
I laugh because just the image of me in a bar fight is kind of funny. I’m laughing now, but I know I won’t be tomorrow. “Trust me, by the time Mrs. Daniels hears about it, she’ll have heard I was drunk, I hooked up with some random guy, and then got into a bar fight. She’s just looking for a reason to fire me.”
“Mrs. Daniels? Are you kidding? Krista Daniels is still the principal at the middle school?”
I nod. “Yeah, how did you know that? Wait, what do you mean still? I thought you were new to Whiskey Run.”
I turn in my seat, completely focused on him now. He’s watching the road, and it gives me time to take him all in. He’s slow to respond, but I don’t mind. “No, I’m not new to Whiskey Run. I lived here most of my life. I’ve been gone for a while working undercover in Jasper, and I just got back last week.”
I hold my hands together in my lap. Don’t ask. Don’t ask, I repeat to myself but it doesn’t stop me. “How old are you?”
He smirks and looks over at me. “Thirty-two.” He pauses. “Ten years older than you.”
“How do you—”
“How do I know how old you are? I know a lot about you. I didn’t know when I met you that I’d want to know more, though.”
My lower belly pulls as he hints that he wants to know me better. I can barely process it before he says, “Is that a problem?”
“No, I’d like to know more about you too.”
His smile is instant as he looks over at me. “And the fact that I’m ten years older than you? Is that a problem?”
I bite my lip to stop from begging him to take me now. I don’t know what’s come over me, but sitting here with… Oh my God. “Uh, no it’s not a problem. I’m sorry. You seem to know everything about me, but I know nothing about you. What’s your name?”
For the first time since I’ve met him, he frowns. It’s then that I look out the window and realize we’re sitting in the driveway at my mom and stepdad’s house. “Uh, how did you know where I lived? How do you know so much about me?”
He turns in his seat, and I can’t figure out why he’s looking at me the way he is. He almost looks disappointed. He opens his mouth but doesn’t get a word out because there’s a knock on the car window. I lean forward and see my stepdad standing by the car. I’m sure he’s probably worried that there’s a cop car in his driveway.
“Fuck,” the man sitting next to me says before rolling down the window.
My stepdad leans down. “Hey, son. I’m glad you came by.”
“Son?” I practically shout. I point at the stranger, the man that I'm most definitely attracted to, and ask him in shock, “You’re Baker Johnson? You’re, uh, you’re my stepbrother?”
He winces. “I’m Baker Johnson.”
I open my mouth, close it, and then open it again. “Uh, okay, well, thank you for the ride.” I get out of the car and am walking around the front of it when my stepdad looks at me. “What happened? Who did that to you?”
I appreciate his concern, I really do. I’ve only been home a month, and I was surprised to discover how much I liked my stepfather. He’s a really good guy. But I definitely don’t want to get into everything that happened. Especially after the little bomb that just sort of exploded in my face. “No one did it to me. I did it to myself.”
Ryan puts his hands on my shoulders. “Honey, you got a knot on your head. Who do I need to kill? Baker, were you there when this happened?”
Baker is out of the car and comes to stand beside me. He pulls me gently until I’m out of his dad’s arms and turns me so we’re facing each other. I do everything I can to try and avoid looking at him, but he’s too hard to resist.
He ignores his dad and instead talks to me. “It’s already bruising, Cass. Make sure you take a pain reliever before you go to bed tonight.”
I nod, but a part of me wants to cry. I’ve never had anyone be concerned for me, not like this, and of course, the one man I’m attracted to ends up being my stepbrother. I pull back, and with my back straight, I start to walk away. “I will. And thanks again. Good night, Baker. Good night, Ryan.”
I turn on my heel and practically run up the walkway and inside the house. My mom is sitting on the couch watching television, and I don’t even bother stopping to talk to her. I know she’ll give me some kind of speech about how tonight was my fault, and I don’t want to hear it.