Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 125140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
It takes away my shine and tarnishes my innocence.
I mean, how would my future boyfriend introduce me to his parents or to his friends?
He couldn’t. He could never truthfully tell them my story because it will never be accepted. Nobody would want their son to marry someone like me with the emotional baggage I have. I can only bring danger to their lives and pain. I’m good at bringing that and that’s why Mom kept us at a distance from normal people.
My children will never have freedom as long as I live in the United States with my father alive. He will always find me.
It is with the last thought strong in my mind that I pick up. I need to do this.
I do deserve a new start where nobody owes me anything.
I look him straight in the eye. “Lets go shopping.”
This is fucking drug money and I’m entitled to it as much as any of those bastards.
* * *
We walk hand in hand down the street and I have a huge smile across my face. We have opened a bank account, which was surprisingly easy. Stace has gone crazy and we are loaded with shopping bags. He has bought me nightgowns and swimmers, makeup and hairbrushes, underwear, dresses, a hat, and three pairs of shoes. I tried to pay with the money he gave me but he wouldn’t have it. Funny thing is, the things he has picked for me are not my style at all, but because he has liked them on me, I have wanted them. As if somehow his opinion is the only one that matters. I am a new person now. I can be anyone I want to be.
He stops in front of a designer boutique. “Let’s go in here.”
I look at the expensive furnishings. “It looks too expensive. I don’t need fancy clothes.”
“What if you have a date? You will need something nice to wear.”
I smile up at him in wonder. “A date with who?”
He shrugs and smiles sexily down at me. “Some lucky bastard.”
My heart swells. I follow him into the store and we start to look through the hanging dresses.
“How long since you have been on a date?” I ask as he slowly flicks through the dresses on the rack.
He narrows his eyes as he thinks. “I don’t know. A long time. I would have still been in the Marines. Maybe five or six years.”
My mouth drops open. “You were a Marine?”
He looks down at me and smiles sexily. “Yes. I was a Marine.”
I put my hands on my hips and stare in wonder up at him.
“What?” He smirks.
“That’s just so…” I shake my head as I try to articulate my words. “Frigging hot.”
His face falls. “And being a criminal on a shipping container isn’t hot to you?”
“Well.” Oh crap, that came out wrong. “I just meant…”
He cuts me off. “I know what you meant.” He keeps looking through the dresses.
He moves to the other rack along the window and concentrates on his task. I, however, have a million questions and follow him around like the annoying person I am.
“What did you do in the Marines?”
“I was a nautical engineer and a chopper pilot.”
I get a vision of him in his grey uniform flying a helicopter, and a thrill of excitement runs through my deviant bloodstream. He would have been a fucking hot chopper pilot.
“A pilot,” I gasp.
“Of choppers.” He frowns.
“Choppers, planes, same thing.”
“No, not really. Different aircraft.” He smirks over at me and I beam a broad smile back at him.
He continues to flick through the rack, distracted at his task at hand as he pulls out a little black dress. “I like this one.”
I take it from him without even looking at it. I am too busy with my Top Gun fantasy.
“How long were you in the Marines?” I ask.
“Six years.”
I bite my bottom lip as I think. He hands me another two dresses.
“Why did you leave?”
“I missed home.”
I frown. “But you are not home now, anyway.”
He raises his eyebrows at me and my ten thousand questions.
Damn it, this is the most interesting story I have heard, and just when he is about to leave, he tells me about it. I want to hear it all.
“Do they know this on the boat?”
“Ship,” he corrects.
“Ah, yes, ship.” I roll my eyes.
“No. Why would I tell them anything personal about me? They are not my friends.”
I smile as a warm, fuzzy feeling runs through me. “Am I your friend?”
He smiles and puts his arm around my shoulder. “I would like to think so.” He pulls me toward him and gently kisses my temple. What a sweet gesture. He instantly goes back to looking at his dresses and I stand and watch him with my mind going crazy.
I don’t want him to go.
I want him to stay with me and be my friend. My gorgeous, beautiful, fuckable friend.