Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
“I’m going to the restroom.” My nerves suddenly kick into overdrive.
“You want me to come with?” Ginger offers.
“No, I’m okay. Just need a breather.”
She studies me, her face softening. “Look in the mirror and know how amazing you are. The hair, the makeup, the clothes—it’s nothing compared to the soul of the woman staring back.”
“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand and grab my clutch.
It takes a few minutes to navigate through the crowd, and I get stopped twice by men asking to buy me a drink. The restroom is empty, and I welcome the space to get my head straight.
It’s just a guy my subconscious tells me. A guy who is your friend.
But it’s not just a guy. It’s a man who is so much more.
Don’t be a coward.
“Don’t be a coward.” I repeat the mantra, washing my hands and taking another glance in the mirror. “You have this.”
My newfound confidence wavers when I open the door to find Ford leaning against the opposite wall.
“Hey.”
He straightens, stepping forward and towering over me. “You okay?”
“Yes, why?”
“Thought I saw you being hassled.”
“Hassled?”
“Those guys in the bar? Say the word and they’re gone.”
“They offered to buy me a drink.”
His gaze takes on a scary glint, his jaw tightening. “They’re out.”
“No, really, it’s okay. It was flattering.”
His expression is unreadable.
I muster up the courage, take a deep breath, and lay a hand on his chest. His eyes drop to my hand and back to me. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, Ford.”
“Thank me for what?”
“You got stabbed saving me. I hate it happened.”
“It was nothing. Part of the job.”
Ouch, that stings.
I swallow again, my courage draining fast. The two martinis kick in, daring me to take advantage of this moment.
I tip up on my toes and whisper, “Thank you. Ford,” then press my lips to his. He’s stone still for a split second before his hands sift through my hair, slanting my head and slipping his tongue inside my mouth. The instant our tongues touch, a ripple of heat and electricity races through my veins, lighting me up inside. I clutch his shirt, opening wider to give him access and control.
He kisses me roughly, his lips and tongue moving greedily with mine, the taste of beer filling my mouth and igniting a new high. I moan softly and tighten my hold to remain standing.
In a flash, I’m against the wall, struggling to stand.
Unlike earlier, his expression isn’t unreadable.
It’s horrified and repulsed.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Please, God, don’t let this happen.
“Fuck, Rowan. What was that?”
“I-I-I’m s-s-sorry.” The stammer comes out hoarse and raspy, my throat closing as humiliation washes over me.
“Why would you do that shit? You think I’m no better than those assholes hitting on you?”
Shayla and Ginger were wrong on so many levels. Letting him know I’m alright and making the first move…
Oh my God! I didn’t only make a mistake. I made a colossal mistake that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
He stares at me with such rejection, my heart crumbles. His gaze turns sympathetic, and I know my emotions won’t withstand whatever he is thinking.
A group of women pour into the hallway, grabbing his attention. My feet work on their own, rushing through them as they line up for the restroom. I don’t dare peer back, racing toward the door, almost crying in relief when Shelby walks in. She takes one look at me and goes on alert.
“What’s wrong?”
“Please get me out of here. I don’t feel well.”
She doesn’t ask another question, linking her elbow through mine and ushering me out. Tears of shame and mortification leak out of the corners of my eyes.
Epic.
Ginger’s words from earlier ring in my head.
Epic is right.
Epic disaster.
2
FORD
The main room darkens six seconds before the light in the backroom flickers on.
Exactly six seconds.
Just like every night since her kidnapping six weeks ago.
I was in that room once, the day she went missing. At the time, it was nothing but extra storage for her salon.
When Rowan decided against moving back to her house and elected to stay in the studio, I assumed she made this her bedroom and abandoned the Murphy bed in the primary space.
But my instinct tells me this is not her bedroom.
Once that light turns on, it doesn’t go off until the first sign of daylight. This means she’s a hell of a deep sleeper, or she’s not sleeping at all. Which leaves me with more questions.
I check the app on my phone, confirming again that her alarm is armed, and settle in my truck, staring up at the window.
My mind drifts to two nights ago.
“Be warned, brother.” Major slaps my shoulder and the back door to Tom’s. “Mark my words. You don’t make a move, someone will. Save us all the hassle of a bar brawl and make tonight your night.”