Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 77663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Thankfully, he turned away again because I needed to shake myself and it would’ve looked really strange to him if he saw that.
“Swear to fuck. Okay-okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to swear. You know what, I’ll just get one of each, okay? Alright, little one, see you soon.”
He put his phone away and turned back around. “Sorry about that.” Are those dimples in his cheeks? No, please, no. He smiled in apology, and I mumbled something. Those were no ordinary dimples; those were movie star-grade dimples.
He looked rough, like,…yeah, rough. But not homeless; I need a bath rough. Rough, like he could break bricks with his hands. Then he lifted his head, and I saw his eyes in the light. This time, I couldn’t hide my reaction. My hand fluttered up around my throat as it was getting hard to breathe. His smile widened and I could swear I saw something change in those arctic blue eyes.
“Uh, my little sister had your cupcakes somewhere or another and lost her fucking mind. I mean… fuck it. You the owner?”
“Yes, I am.” When did Eartha Kitt take over my body?
“So, what am I looking at here?” He placed his hand on the glass and leaned down to look into the lower glass case. Mercy, his hands, his fingers. What the hell is wrong with me? Have I been so long without sex that I’ve turned into this thing that lusts after strange men who look like they should be on the front of a most wanted poster?
“Give me six of each flavor.”
Six? There are twelve flavors.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” I should hate him for his snark alone, but that voice, those eyes, those lips, that…. Don’t you dare ogle his privates. Have you lost your mind?
I’m mortified. I want to die on this spot. I’m absolutely certain he caught me looking at his junk. I boxed up his order but my hands didn’t start shaking until I reached for the credit card he held out to me to pay. A Mastercard black card?
“I’m sorry but I have to ask for ID.” I pointed to the notice on the wall so he didn’t think I was targeting him, but I have to admit to having a bit of financial bias. People like Evelyn and her husband had this card. This motorcycle-riding hoodlum does not.
Thief! Dammit, I knew it was too good to be true. My damn radar is on the fritz again. Or maybe that’s all I’m destined to meet. Shiftless, dishonest men. I looked down at the ID and the card. Thunder McCall.
I rung up the sale and handed him back the elite luxury card and tried to hide the embarrassment brought on by my own prejudice. He’d been busy taking the catering menu along with the business card from the little holder we kept out there.
“Thanks for this.” He held up the bags with the boxes before turning to leave. I breathed in deeply and could still smell him. I’m still dazed and confused. How does someone who looks like the ultimate son of anarchy have one of the most elite cards in the world?
I know, I know, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but come on. How many stereotypes can one guy be? I think I was a little bit salty because he didn’t give me the once-over. I’m accustomed to getting at least one compliment a day from the opposite sex, even when I was married.
I looked down at my hand to see if there was a tan line around my ring finger, but it was long gone. Bastard!
THUNDER
“Fuck me!”
“Boss?”
“Get back on your rides; let’s get the hell outta here.” I jumped in the Chiron and backed the fuck outta dodge. Hell no, nope, no fucking way. I fished around for my phone and called my sister. “Joy, have you been to the bakery before?”
“No, why? Is it too far? I looked it up; it’s not that far.”
“Have you ever met anyone who works at the bakery?”
“No, why are you asking me all of these questions?”
“Nothing, bye, I’m on my way.” It’s her; it’s got to be fucking her. But who put her here? No one else knows about her, so why is she here? Now?
Two years, it’s been two years since that day. I remember it like it was yesterday. I’d gone to her company for a meeting with a new financier. She was walking down the hallway with her head down, reading something in her hand.
I remember the hitch in my gut and the pain in my chest. It felt like I knew her, but I knew that we’d never met. But something in me recognized her. I don’t believe in that hocus pocus bullshit, but there was no way someone like me, who lived off of following his gut, could ignore the signs.