Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I’d been procuring little things from local businesses. Gift cards. Samples of their products. Fun stuff that wasn’t related to a goddamn thing. Sometimes I went to Walmart or a drug store and filled the rest of the bag with candies and things that they couldn’t get while deployed out of the country.
She smiled a warm smile. “That’s so sweet!”
I guess.
But, when I’d started this particular chapter, it was due in part to Rafe.
He’d once said one of the hardest parts about coming home was that no one was here to care if they were home, or back in that hell hole, and my fifteen-year-old self had taken that to heart.
I’d worked with my stepmother, Shiloh, and had founded this chapter.
Ever since, I’d been attending every single welcoming home that I could possibly muster without taking time off from work or school. School that I was doing to humor my father.
Then the line of men getting off the plane shifted, and I caught sight of him. He was the last one off the plane. Literally, even the flight attendants had beat him off.
He was looking at the ground as he made his way down the long hallway that led to the open room where the family of the returning home soldiers waited. Even though his head was down, I knew for a fact that he was very much aware of the men and women ahead of him.
Butterflies swarmed my belly as I watched him prowl in my direction.
He hadn’t seen me yet.
He wouldn’t be happy to see me.
While he was still unaware of my existence, I watched him walk.
Watched the way he moved with purpose.
He was dressed in his military uniform.
Brown, darker brown, and tan digital camouflage head-to-toe. He even had a hat that matched his pants. The top shirt was open and flapping as he walked, showing off the skintight tan t-shirt he wore underneath. Was that part of his uniform? I didn’t know. Then again, I didn’t really care.
And boy, those pants.
His pockets looked like they were filled to the absolute brim with shit—and I wanted to know what he put in those pockets. Food? Socks? Guns?
Then there was that arm that was up by his neck that was latched on to the massive canvas bag that was slung over his shoulder. The veins in his tanned arm were thick and prominent, and I licked my lips.
He looked so unbelievably hot.
The pants he had on were tight. Not so tight that they hindered his movements, but tight enough that I could see his hips and thighs. I also noticed that he was wearing boxer briefs—mostly because I could see the seam around mid-thigh.
The shirt he was wearing was tight, too. His chest muscles bulged, and I vaguely wondered whether or not he had to go one size bigger due to the girth.
He abruptly turned left into the coffee house that was at the end of the escalator.
I looked over at Kayla, my best friend in the entire world.
She rolled her eyes and waved me away, causing me to grin at her.
“You’re the best wingman ever.”
“Or the stupidest,” she commented as I raced toward the coffee place.
When I arrived, it was to find him with his back to the door, and his head tilted up so he could read the coffee menu.
I crept up in line behind him, wondering if he’d notice me.
He didn’t—or at least he didn’t act like he did.
The line crept forward, one-by-one, causing us to get closer and closer to the barista until finally we were there.
I shifted slightly to the side, causing him to glance at me.
He glanced away almost as fast, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
He didn’t notice me.
Not in what I was wearing, anyway.
Then there was the fact that I’d dyed my hair purple and pink.
I also went lighter on the makeup nowadays than I did when I was younger.
His eyes were trained on the woman at the counter.
And not in a good way.
“I’ll have a coffee. Large. Black.” He paused. “And one of those blueberry muffins.”
“I can’t serve you. It’s against company policy to serve anyone with a weapon.” She eyed the bulge in Rafe’s pockets. And, from the perspective at which I was standing, I could now see that that bulge was actually a hat and a cell phone. “Especially a military man like you,” she said, sounding put out that she was having to have this conversation. “I mean, you kill innocent people. You don’t deserve to walk this earth, let alone drink any coffee that I make.”
Rafe blinked at the barista’s words. Then shrugged and started to back away.
I placed my hand on his shoulder and stilled him. “Hold on a moment.”
In fact, I’d said it with so much disdain that I was taken aback for a second.