Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Turning around, I pull out my wallet and toss a twenty on the bar top to cover my beers. When I turn back around, the girl is nowhere in sight, and for some reason, that makes my heart clench in my chest. Storming out of the bar, I’m met with the cool night air. I also find Jude standing there, right beneath a streetlamp.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
She nods her head, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. I know she’s not trying to be seductive. Something tells me she wouldn’t know the first thing about being sexy.
Starting down the sidewalk, I turn the corner, heading for the parking lot in the back. Jude’s soft footsteps bounce off the concrete behind me. I don’t like her being at my back, so I stop and wait until she is in line with my steps. I walk slower to keep us together, and when we get closer to my truck, I hit the unlock button on the key fob.
Like a spooked horse, Jude jumps in the air at the sound, bringing her hands to her chest. Her eyes dart around, looking for an attacker, I assume.
“It’s just the lock on my truck,” I assure her.
“I’m sorry,” she replies gently, the worry seeping from her gaze slowly.
Each step she takes seems to be measured with uneasiness, and yet she says nothing and continues into my truck. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. Do I ask her if she is okay? If something is going on? I shake those questions away, deciding to ask a much more pressing question,
“How old are you, Jude?”
“Twenty-One,” she answers without blinking an eye. Still, I have a hard time believing her. She doesn’t look underage, but she doesn’t look like she is old enough to drink either.
When we’re locked and loaded in my truck, I turn to her and ask, “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home? It’s no problem.”
“No. I want to go with you.” A smile tugs at her lips, and I nod, deciding she’s made her choice.
When we arrive at my bungalow, I help her out of the truck, and we walk up the front steps. The place isn’t much, a simple one bedroom. When you live alone, it’s all you need.
Unlocking the door, I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She’s looking around, almost as if she’s taking everything in for the first time.
It’s painfully obvious that she’s sheltered, but I’m not going to pepper her with questions about her life. God knows, I fucking hate when people do that to me.
“You hungry?” I ask as soon as we step inside. It’s not awfully late, so I can still whip something up for her to eat, plus she looks like she could use a good home-cooked meal.
As always, I was at the bar, drinking a beer, trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life, so it’s not like the girl interrupted anything important.
“Sure,” she says, and walks a little deeper into the house. Her eyes fill with wonderment as they move over the walls.
I decide to leave her be for a bit and walk into the kitchen to determine what I’m going to make. Upon inspection, I realize two things. One, I need to go grocery shopping, and two, frozen pizza is the meal of choice. Hardly, the home-cooked meal I envisioned making her, I would not make a good husband or boyfriend right now. What the hell? Why am I thinking about that?
Popping a pizza into the oven, I walk back out into the living room to find her standing near the fireplace, her fingers pressed against a photo. She’s staring so intently, almost as if she’s living the moment in that photo. It’s one of my brothers and me. I can’t remember the exact location, but the joy on our faces tells me it was a time before life got a hold of us.
I allow myself to look her over once more since the lighting in the bar was so shitty. She’s pretty, gorgeous, even in the absurd clothing she wears. Her hips flare beneath the gaudy skirt, and though it’s hard to make out, I can see the perkiness of her breasts beneath her shirt. My cock hardens in my jeans, simply thinking about stripping her bare and tracing her soft skin.
Whoa, dude, chill the hell out.
As if she can sense I’m standing there watching her, she whirls around, dropping her hand as if she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Her creamy white cheeks flush pink with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched your things.” Her words are so soft, almost as if she doesn’t say them for me to hear.
“Don’t be sorry, you did nothing wrong,” I reassure her, running a hand through my hair. “I wanted to make you something, but as it turns out, I need to go shopping, so I popped a pizza in. I hope that’s okay?”