Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Ignoring her, I follow two steps behind her until she disappears into a room she had to use a key to get into. When she comes back out, she has a towel that she takes into the small alcove with two vending machines and an ice machine.
I lean back against the side of the building to wait for her and tip my head back to stare at the night sky that is glittering with stars. I don’t think I ever saw the stars while living in New York, or maybe I just never noticed them because I was too busy. Too busy making money, too busy spending that money on shit that didn’t mean shit, and too busy spending my time with people who didn’t fucking matter.
“Here.” I tilt my head down and look at the balled-up towel she holds out to me, a second one exactly the same in her other hand.
“I don’t need it.” I flex my fingers, and my knuckles sting slightly when the cool air brushes against them. Rolling her eyes, she shoves the towel into my stomach, then lets go, leaving me no choice but to catch it.
“You’re welcome.” She leans back against the wall next to me, pressing the ice to the side of her face and wincing at the contact.
“Do you have some ibuprofen?”
“No.” She blows out a long breath, then drops her gaze to my knuckles. “How bad is your hand?”
“I’m fine.”
“So because you have a penis, you get to say you’re fine?”
Pressing my lips together, I glare, and she laughs. I can’t help but glance at her cheek, my eyes zeroing in on her dimple.
“I can’t believe that happened.” She holds the ice to her face, shaking her head.
“What were you thinking, stepping between two men twice your size?”
“It’s not like I thought I’d get punched in the face,” she replies haughtily, and my jaw clenches at the reminder. “I didn’t know they were actually going to fight. Those guys come in a couple of times a week together, and they always end up getting drunk and arguing before they call it a night and go home.” She looks in the direction of the bar. We can’t see it from where we are, not with the bushes and trees that line the curvy sidewalk. “I should probably get back to work before Colleen comes looking for me.”
“You need to take some ibuprofen and go to bed.”
“I need to finish my shift so I can get paid,” she counters, pushing away from the wall.
“Elora,” I bite out when she starts to walk off.
“Night, Roman,” she calls over her shoulder, disappearing out of sight around a bend in the sidewalk, and I let her go, even when every instinct urges me to follow and bring her back.
4
ELORA
43.0760° N, 107.2903° W
Lying on my back in bed, I watch a long beam of light from the morning sun that breaks in through a crack in the curtain as it slowly travels across the blank space of the ceiling. When I first woke up, the light was on the wall and the box still sitting on top of the dresser, like the contents inside wanted the warmth of the sun and drew it inside the room.
When I roll to my side, my eyes land on the water and bottle of ibuprofen sitting on my nightstand—a gift I found inside a plastic bag hanging on the door handle of my room when I came upstairs last night after finishing my shift at the bar. Even if I didn’t see him place them there, I knew they were from Roman. The guy who got his food to go and left me sitting alone at The Coast after telling me that he didn’t know why he was here in town. The same guy who didn’t acknowledge me when he walked into the bar last night, and the one who tossed one man like he weighed nothing, then punched the one who punched me, looking like he could have killed him when he eyed the red mark on my cheekbone.
Giving up on going back to sleep or trying to figure out Roman, who is a conundrum all his own, I toss back the blanket covering me and sit up. I have today off, which I’m going to need. With an unexpected wave of nice weather, the weekend will be busier than normal, so I likely won’t get much of a break between housekeeping and my job at the bar for a few days.
Walking to the bathroom, I flip on the light and go to the sink, leaning over it to get a better look at the side of my face. There’s a tender bruise and slight welt, but it’s not as bad as it could have been if I hadn’t put ice on it when Roman demanded.