Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
He gets out of the truck and looks at his father and then me. "Hey," he says, raising his chin. "What do you have there?"
"Asher is duct-taping the back seat," Billy says, laughing, and Casey shakes his head.
"Here," he says, tossing me a set of keys, my hand coming out and catching them. "It’s time that you got a new car anyway." I stand here shocked as I look down at the keys in my hand and then back at Casey.
"I don’t need a new truck," I tell them. "I can’t take this." I look over at them and then back to the truck that looks brand new.
"Yeah, that’s what Jacob said you would say," Casey tells me. "He also said to tell you that you are going to be driving his daughter, and he doesn’t want her in that death trap."
"I don’t know what to say." I look at them, my mouth becoming dry and my hands shaking as I look down at the black key. "I can’t pay for this truck," I admit.
"No one is asking you to pay for shit, boy. You show up every single day and work your ass off. You show up even when no one expects you to. Heck, you even showed up when I told you not to show your face," Billy says, and I laugh.
"I think you said if I showed up, you’d fire my ass," I remind him.
"Of course, he did," Casey says, laughing and shaking his head.
I look over at Billy, and there is nothing that I can say right now, the smile on his face is so big. "You’ve earned this."
Chapter 22
Amelia
"Where is your bodyguard?" Reed jokes, walking behind the bar. Emptying the bin of ice, he’s carrying it into the freezer as we get ready for the Saturday night rush. "Usually, I have to ask permission to enter." I push his shoulder, and he laughs. "The truth hurts."
"I’m going to hurt you if you keep talking," I say, and that makes him laugh even harder.
"Momma said I’m not allowed to hit girls," Reed says.
"And if you do, I’m going to kick your ass," Quinn says, and I look over at him. "And then I’m going to tell Mom, and she’s going to kick your ass."
Reed smirks over at him. "Not her baby," he says, walking away, and I look back at Quinn. We both watch him walk out, and then he turns and winks over at a group of girls who have been watching him. They all sigh when he walks by, and Quinn and I look at each other and laugh.
"He’s going to give my mother white hair," Quinn says, and I lean on the bar with both hands outstretched, laughing.
The night is just starting, and I watch as the crowd grows. I look over at the door and see Asher walk in and my stomach literally flips. I watch him laugh with Ethan and then shake his head. I stop for a second and just watch him even though I saw him less than two hours ago when he dropped me off here and waited until Reed showed up. Dressed in dark blue jeans, he shows off just a bit of what he has to offer. After feeling it on my leg, I can say it’s exactly how I thought it would be. A white T-shirt is under the blue-and-white-checkered long-sleeve shirt rolled up to his elbows. His black hair looks like he just ran his hand through it, and his eyes look up as if he knows I’m watching. His brown eyes light up just like the smile that fills his face. He gives me a chin up as he makes his way over to the bar.
The last week has been crazy, to say the least. They still haven’t found the two guys who broke into our cars. He is there in the morning and doesn’t leave until someone else arrives, and then every single night, he shows up at the bar and helps me close it. To anyone watching, it would be like two friends, but when we get into the house, we waste no time lunging for each other. I spend every single night in his arms. We spend the night torturing each other with kisses. I wait for his touch, my body yearning for it.
"Um.” I hear him say when he walks behind the bar. "You changed?" He does the once-over up and down.
"You didn’t think I would wear yoga pants?" I ask, shaking my head. I came in wearing yoga pants and a sweater, but I’m wearing a pair of jean shorts that are loose and hang on my hips with a thin brown and silver country belt. A white tank top with two horseshoes on the center, hang loose.
"Here," he says, taking off his long-sleeve shirt and handing it to me.