Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
"Can I have my phone?"
He wordlessly held it out for me to take. I went to grab for it and the second my fingers made contact, he closed his hand around it and drew away. "I'll give this back on one condition.”
“You’ll give it back because it's mine,” I corrected.
“Have a drink with me first.”
I scoffed and crossed my arms. “You know there was a much easier way of asking to have a drink with me?”
He stepped closer, his smile spreading into a mischievous grin. “I wasn’t asking.”
Now, I did let my eyes take a stroll down his body. He was the perfect height, a good few inches taller than my five-four self. Based on the definition in his arms, I knew he worked out and was curious about what the rest of him looked like. Enough so that I was tempted to accept his offer based on that alone.
Unfortunately, just because he’d been what I liked to call one of God’s favorites in the looks department didn’t mean he had a dick worth my undivided attention. Two plus two didn’t always equal four in these situations. It had been a while, though. And I was already here…
"Fine. I'll let you buy me a drink, but first, tell me your name.”
"Maxwell."
"Maxwell?" I repeated.
"I prefer Max."
Of course, you do.
He gave me another smile, showing off perfect white teeth, and reached for my hand, slipping my phone into it without breaking eye contact. With that one small gesture, my night brightened significantly.
At the sound of approaching heels, we both sidestepped, making room so another bar patron could get past us. A lithe blonde with a scorpion tattoo on her shoulder walked by, dragging her eyes up and down Max’s body. She gave him a seductive grin before walking into the bathroom. He earned himself some brownie points by completely ignoring her and keeping his focus on me.
"So, about that drink…?" He hinted at my name, holding his hand out for me to move ahead of him.
"Rose," I tossed over my shoulder, heading for my booth.
Max trailed after me, his presence at my back impossible to ignore. “What about your friends?”
“They’ll be fine.”
Once we were both seated on either side of the table, he waved Aimee over.
"Vodka on the rocks—two—and add lime," he ordered, still not taking his eyes off me.
I wasn’t sure I liked his attentiveness. It reminded me too much of someone else. Thankfully, Aimee returned in record time and placed our drinks on the table. I didn’t miss the extra dose of server cheer I got now that he was sitting here.
“I think Barbie likes you.”
“Barbie?” His smile returned and I noted how carefree he seemed.
“You know who.”
He took a sip of his drink. “She doesn’t like me. She wants me to take her behind the bar and fuck her against the wall.”
Hearing him, Aimee stumbled as she approached the booth two tables away. Unable to hold back my laughter, I brought a hand up and hid my mouth. I could’ve sworn his eyes lit at the sound of it.
“Will you?” I questioned curiously.
He huffed out a short laugh and settled back against the booth, drink in hand. “No. I don’t like blondes.”
“Hmm. Me and you both.”
Seeing the perturbed look on his face, I softly cleared my throat and stared at my glass. Not only was this mixing dark and light, but vodka tended to parade my inner slut with a marching band behind it.
"I should’ve probably mentioned that I've already had a few drinks. I have to drive home.”
"Where is home, exactly?"
“Hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves. You’re a stranger. I can’t tell you where I live.”
“Then let’s work on me becoming a friend,” he replied, not missing a beat.
Friend. That word was like battery acid on my tongue. I’d never liked them much. They required an exchange of trust I wasn’t comfortable with. If given and then abused, you’d open yourself up for unnecessary heartbreak. Molina was all I needed. Not that I even believed that’s what this man honestly wanted.
“Why would we be friends?”
His responding smile was beautiful and innocent. There wasn’t a hint of malice in his eyes. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t want to be friends with you?”
I’m glad he asked because yes, there was a shit load of reasons. The most important being how much he valued his life. Getting close to me was the equivalent of predating his death certificate. Of course, I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I smiled prettily and tried to let him down easy.
“It’s nothing personal You seem like a good guy. I just don’t do that.”
“You don’t have friends?”
I shook my head and reached for my drink. “You could say I’m not that kind of woman.”
“What does that even mean?” he questioned with that ever-present smile. “What type of woman are you then?”