Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 84928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
"Wanna fight? I'd take your skinny ass."
He was right; he would. Things had changed a lot. "Just sayin'... least I know you ain't a dick."
"You got feelings for her?" he asked, brows drawn together. "Like... other than wanting in her pants?"
"Just met her," I hedged.
"When the fuck has that ever mattered? It is or it ain't. Don't need a fuckin' year to suss out a connection. That shit takes minutes."
I clicked my tongue, shaking my head at him. "When the fuck did you grow a brain, man?"
"Psh, fucking junior year, man. Remember Brainy Bonnie? With the glasses and acne and fifty extra pounds?"
"Yeah," I nodded, image popping into my head like no time had passed.
"Grew five inches. That weight seemed to settle in her tits and ass. Got some contacts, some skin cream that did wonders. Fucking before and after worthy of a teen movie shit."
"And?" I asked, starting to smirk.
"Well, I suddenly found myself in need of some tutoring," he said, giving me a smile. "Between some good times in the back twenty," he said, referring to his dad's ranch, "she managed to beat some knowledge up in me."
"You owe her some flowers," I laughed.
A companionable silence fell as we moved to sit in the living room. "Heard about the diner incident," Dade finally said, lips twitching.
"Stupid backwoods fucks."
"You always carry a gun?"
My eyes went to his face, weighing how much I was willing to tell him. "My job? It involves guns."
"The kind you need to keep concealed and on your body at all times?" he asked and I could see he was putting two and two together. Brainy Bonnie strikes again. It wasn't that he was stupid when we were kids; he just wasn't that bright either.
"Something like that, yeah."
"Kinda figured you weren't no accountant," he said with a shrug, letting it drop, knowing better than to pry. "Your friends, they're in your line of work?"
"Sort-of. Not exactly the same. Break is more similar. Alex works in... computers."
"And that Paine guy? What the fuck kinda name is that anyway?"
"His real one," I laughed. "He's a tattoo artist."
"Spend a lot of time with him, I see," he said, waving toward my body.
There was a weight behind those words. "Dade... I'm gonna come back and visit. I travel a lot. No reason I can't swing through every now and again."
I could see him visibly relax at my words. "Good. But just so you know, you ain't gonna sweep in here and fuck her life up every time, though man. Know you're a good guy and you don't wanna be a dick. Also know everything about you screams 'I get loads of pussy'. So just letting you know, won't let you do that to her."
"Always liked that quality, man," I said, shaking my head.
"What quality?"
"Protective. Even when you didn't have good reason to give a spit about me, you looked out for me. Good thing to have... even if you're being a cock block."
"Psh, way her eyes were shootin' daggers at you, no way your cock was getting anywhere near her anyway."
I let out a loud sigh, getting up to get another beer.
"Yeah. I know."
--
I wrangled Millie into her carrier with more ease than Alex would appreciate, grabbed my bag, and headed out the door. I paused for the barest of seconds to look at Amelia's door, wondering if I should go over and try to smooth things out. But, in the end, what was the point? I was as good as gone. She had made up her mind about me. Better she just assume I was a dick.
I had just made it to the bottom step leading outside when I heard voices. Don't ask me why I paused, but I did. I paused and I listened.
"Just for a couple minutes. Offer me some sweet tea."
"No, Luis, not today," Amelia's voice reached me and I felt myself tensing.
Who the fuck was Luis? And why was he trying to get into her apartment? Was he the rich dick who owned the apartment building? Despite better sense telling me I was being a creep, I leaned around the corner to see the man in question reach out and stroke Amelia's cheek in a familiar way. She didn't flinch away either. My eyes moved from her face to the man and I froze.
No fucking way.
No fucking way was that the guy she was dating.
Jesus Christ.
He was tall and thin with angular features and dark eyes. See, he wasn't looking at me; I couldn't see his eyes. But I knew they were dark. I knew this because I knew him.
"Alright, Amelia, darling. Maybe tomorrow," he said, kissing her cheek and walking away.
Something in me broke loose, something low and petty and unfamiliar, making my smile turn more into a sneer as she rounded the corner, yelping when she saw me. "Who was that, angel?"
Her back straightened; her walls slipped into place. "I don't see how that is any of your business."
"Is that your boyfriend?"
"So what if it is?"
I couldn't help it, the laugh rose up and burst out. The memory of her calling me nasty names for my lifestyle floated around my head.
"What is so funny?"
Recovering, I shook my head, still smiling huge. "Karma is, sugar."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
I chucked her gently under the chin. "Why don't you ask your boyfriend how he knows me, huh, angelface?"
She rolled her eyes at me as I walked past. "You don't know him. He's new here."
I turned around as I stepped out of the front door. "Ask him," I said, turning and walking away.
I climbed into my rental car, still grinning huge. Fucking hell. What a turn of events.
I pulled the car out of the lot and down the street, expecting to feel relief and peace at leaving the backwoods, bumfuck town behind. Instead, all I felt was a sensation of unfinished business. I pushed it down, trying to focus on anything but the things that would make me want to turn the car around and rush back into that apartment building and spill it all.