Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34426 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34426 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
He stripped off his shirt without so much as a glance in her direction. Her heart leaped into his throat as she tightened her hold on her tattered shirt.
Was this it? Would he stalk over to her and demand payment for his assistance? Hot as he was without his shirt—and he was blazing hot—she refused to repay him with her body. She hadn’t escaped one bastard to fall prey to another.
Daisy braced, ready to run or fight should she need to. But instead of walking toward the bed, he went to an open duffle bag on the small table, pulled out another gray T-shirt, and slipped it over his head before grabbing a second shirt.
Daisy exhaled a thousand pounds of pressure in a long, shaky breath. Any other time, she’d mourn the loss of eye candy, but all she felt tonight was relief.
“Put this on.” She jumped as a lump of fabric landed on her lap—the T-shirt. As she lifted it, his scent wafted over her, making her belly flip-flop. The shirt smelled heavenly—fresh and clean with a woodsy undertone and a hint of leather, as though wearing it beneath his cut all the time infused a scent even a washing machine couldn’t erase. She ached to press it to her face and inhale the comforting and arousing aroma.
But this man was a stranger to her, and he wasn’t her safe place, even if he’d been that tonight. This man would play a fleeting part in her life, and she’d be a fool to start spinning fairy tales in her head.
She didn’t even know his name.
“Thank you,” she said, clutching the shirt.
He nodded once, then turned, allowing her a private moment to remove her torn top and replace it with his. She stood to accommodate the fabric and tried not to swoon as it enveloped her like a warm, fragrant embrace. The humungous shirt swallowed her up, falling past her knees and elbows. A ridiculous feeling of safety washed over her as though the fabric was armor instead of cotton. So foolish.
She wasn’t safe just because this stranger helped her out one time. Ricky made sure she’d never be safe again.
“Um… I’m decent,” she said once she sat and smoothed the shirt into place. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of sweatpants as well so she could ditch the denim skirt, but his would never fit her.
Her protector turned. His eyes landed on her, then flared with obvious heat as though he liked what he saw. Daisy bit her tongue to keep from asking if he liked how she looked in his shirt.
She’d cheated death once tonight—no point in pushing her luck.
“Sit.” Things would get awkward quickly if he planned to speak to her in nothing but one-word commanding sentences.
She sat with a sigh. “What’s your name?” she asked as he rummaged in a white box with a red cross. It looked like a doozie of a first-aid kid. How often did this guy get injured?
“Moose.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Like the animal?”
He grunted.
“Because you’re so big?”
He crossed the room and crouched in front of her with a ferocious scowl. Had she pissed him off with the question?
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to offend. There’s nothing wrong with how big you are… I like it. You look strong, and your tattoos are great. Hot.” Her eyes flared. “Nice. I mean, your tattoo artist was really good.”
Shut up, Daisy!
He gave her a droll look. Guess he wasn’t the type to find her anxious rambling charming.
“Moose are solitary animals,” he said as though that should mean something to her.
“Oh.”
He ripped open a square of gauze and doused it with antiseptic. “I like to be alone.”
“Aah…” Way to make a girl feel welcome. At least his last two sentences contained multiple words.
“This might sting.” He pressed the cloth to her cheek. The cold liquid made her flinch, but the sting had a whimper rising from her throat.
Moose’s hand froze, and his irritable gaze met hers.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
He grunted. “I warned you.”
Yes, he had, so forgive her for the wildly inappropriate reaction of a small squeak of discomfort. Who was this guy? Some hot stoic biker impervious to pain?
She blew out a breath. It didn’t matter. As soon as he patched her up, she’d be on her way. Of course, she still had to figure out where to go.
The sting faded after a moment. Moose cleaned the blood off her face and offered a bandage which she’d been vain enough to refuse. She did accept the ice pack he pressed to her swollen eye. Hopefully, it’d prevent her from looking like a monster in the morning.
“You’ll have a wicked bruise tomorrow,” he grumbled as he collected his discarded supplies.
“Won’t be the first,” she mumbled, holding the ice to her face. The cold felt incredible on her bruised skin.