Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
TJ nearly squeals in delight. “I’d love to help then.”
“Virus, a word?” I direct Ronan to help with the body before leading Virus out of the room.
We have a ton of shit to discuss.
Chapter 5
Molly
“I feel like I’m breaking the fucking law,” I mutter as I check my rearview mirror for the hundredth time since sneaking out of the clubhouse.
My escape must have gone unnoticed because I’m able to park in front of the small café and climb out of my car in silence. The absence of rumbling motorcycle engines is soothing. Boston is the only member who didn’t go to Florida, and he’s been engrossed in paperwork almost every waking second since I returned home from school. Sneaking out was easier than I’d anticipated.
Within minutes, I’m inside the café and seated in the corner, regretting having left my cell phone at home because now I have nothing to entertain me other than people watching and organizing the sweetener packets.
“I should’ve stayed at home,” I mutter to myself as I group the pink, blue, and yellow packets together in a row.
“Do they actually talk back?”
My eyes snap up, my mouth readying to tell the jerk off. Like a fish, my lips open and close several times. Stunned is not a reaction I often experience. I’m around good-looking men all the time. The Ravens Ruin clubhouse is constantly filled with handsome devils, but the man standing a few feet away with his hands shoved in the pockets of his well-worn jeans is more than handsome.
He doesn’t have a knowing smirk painting his full pink lips, and there isn’t a hint of deviousness in his eyes as he waits patiently for me to answer.
He continues to wait because when my eyes landed on him, I instantly forgot what he asked. I opt to stare at him like a weirdo rather than open my mouth and sound like an idiot.
“I was over there, alone.” He hitches his thumb over his shoulder, indicating where he must have been sitting.
I don’t bother to peer past him. Looking away seems impossible right now.
“And you were over here, alone,” he continues. “I just—”
Pausing, he stares down at me as if begging for a reprieve, hoping I’ll cut in and alleviate him of the awkwardness.
Perfect teeth dig into his lower lip as his eyes dart from my face to the packets I’m still toying with in my hands.
“I prefer raw sugar,” he adds when I remain silent. “I bet you’re a pink girl.”
A small smile forms on his lips, but it’s not creepy. It’s a deviation from what I’m used to back at the clubhouse.
His eye twitches with what I presume is an attempt to wink.
Oh shit. He’s flirting with me.
Without him staring at my tits or licking his lips, I almost don’t recognize it.
“Blue actually,” I say holding up one of the packets.
“How old are you?” he blurts.
“Why do you want to know?”
Pink tints his cheeks as his throat works on a heavy swallow.
Three slow blinks and one head turn to look around the nearly empty café later, he leans in a little closer before he speaks. “I’m trying to figure out if I’m a pervert or not.”
He whispers pervert so low, I see him speak the word rather than actually hear it leave his lips.
“That escalated quickly,” I tease, leaning back in the chair and letting my eyes rake over his full frame.
“I’m old enough to vote,” I finally answer when he begins to rock back and forth on his heels.
His smile deepens further. “Old enough to drink?”
It’s my turn to wink at him, only I do it with assurance. “Age wouldn’t stop me from doing that.”
“May I?” He points down at the chair on the other side of my table.
“Please,” I tell him with a genuine smile.
I’m an excellent judge of character, so I’m pretty sure this man is just awkwardly shy because he doesn’t seem to be throwing game in my direction. If he is, he’s horrible at it.
Sutton, Massachusetts isn’t a very big town, and even though I don’t know many people, a lot of them I recognize from just living here all my life. This man, however, I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. I don’t imagine I’d forget his quick smile, sandy-brown hair, and dark eyes had I seen them before.
“Do you live around here?” His hands rest on the table in front of him, fingers twining together as if he doesn’t know what to do with them.
“Yep.” His eyes seem to sparkle with my aloofness.
But, what could I tell him? He doesn’t look like the kind of guy that would be impressed to know that I live off of an isolated section of Purgatory Road at a compound controlled by a biker club.
“Do you work nearby?”
Work. What a concept. He’s attracted to me. He’s made that clear by asking my age, but would unemployment be a turn off for him?