Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I shrugged. “I don’t like being touched.”
Lies.
I didn’t like being crowded by a man that was so beautiful and sexy that it hurt.
I also didn’t like the way he made me feel—needy with a chance of I’m going to be wet all day now.
Hell, I didn’t even get this level of wetness when I worked!
So I waited patiently for him to get his drink—sweet tea—and then move out of the way.
Once he was gone, I finished cleaning up my mess, then took my time walking back to the table where Jubilee was happily eating the rest of her food.
I sat down, glanced longingly at the burger that would’ve made me happy once upon a time, and then took a few more bites of my salad.
“Did you hear that they recalled romaine lettuce?” Jubilee asked as she took a bite of her burger.
“Yes,” I said. “I also only have regular lettuce in here, as well as spinach. Did you not notice how they had that huge sign on the salad bar that said that there was no contaminated romaine lettuce?”
She shook her head.
“No,” she admitted. “But I also didn’t go near the salad bar.”
“Why do they have a salad bar at the donut place?” I asked curiously. “And why call it a donut place at all?”
She shrugged. “There’s donuts here. Plus, there are really good breakfast sandwiches.”
That was true. But still, I thought it was weird.
Not that it’d stop me from coming here.
I loved this place.
Not only was there a plethora of good food for the healthy to eat but there was also a massive spread of unhealthy food, too. So a person at any stage, dieting or eating like normal, could come in here and eat happily, any way that they wanted to.
The name of the restaurant was actually called ‘The Donut Place’ and had been called that for as long as I could remember.
“Ummm,” Jubilee said. “Are you okay?”
I looked up to find her not staring at me, but at the woman across the aisle from me.
She was staring at me like she knew me.
“I swear to God,” she squinted. “You look like someone I know.”
I looked at her Bobby Labonte t-shirt and her Dale Earnhardt Jr. ball cap and grinned.
“I get that a lot,” I told her honestly. “But I’m nobody special.”
I hadn’t raced in quite a few years, but the die-hard NASCAR fans still knew me, thanks to my father and who he happened to be. They followed my very short career in racing, which hadn’t been a thing in quite a long time.
Castiel’s man date made a scoffing sound, and I looked up and over two rows back to see him staring at me.
“Huh,” the woman said. “Well, then I’m sorry. But I swear, you’re the spitting image of someone I know. I just can’t place them.”
I smiled and turned away, my eyes once again going to the man that was rolling his eyes.
I narrowed my eyes at him and gave him a look.
His eyebrows rose.
“I can see that you’re liked by everybody,” Castiel drawled, his leg stretched out in front of him, encroaching on the aisle. “Glad it’s not just me.”
I turned away, embarrassed now.
“I need to get to work,” I sighed. “I have to get Mrs. Glascow finished, and Mr. Editberg started.”
Jubilee shoved what was left of her burger into her mouth and started nodding.
“I need to go with you,” she said. “I’m leaving my car here for Zee to pick up later. He said that it’s easier for him to get into this parking lot to get it, though, since it’s on one of his colleague’s way home. If you don’t mind, I’m going to catch a ride with you.”
I shrugged and stood up, too, very aware of the men at our back.
I was also aware that I was in leggings and a t-shirt that barely covered my ass, and I was wearing granny panties because I was on my period.
A period that made my life a living hell for six days out of every month, and I liked to be comfortable if I had to be cramping.
“I need to grab a donut to go,” she said. “Can I meet you at the car?”
I nodded and walked to the door, my cup of tea in one hand, and my palm going to the glass of the door.
My body hit the door, though, and then the glass of tea exploded everywhere, causing me to jump back and curse.
That was when I saw the door said ‘pull’ and not ‘push.’
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
I looked down at my soaking wet gray t-shirt, then at the black leggings that had almost become transparent.
I then closed my eyes and counted to ten, trying to decide if I had enough time to get home, change, then get back to work and get those two jobs done before heading back home for my appointment at two.