Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Mrs. Collins looked surprised. “Brea told you about that?”
“Yeah.” But he hadn’t heard anything new in almost a week.
“Oh. Well, Reverend Bell is recovering nicely, thank you. Do you, um…know Brea?” Clearly, that possibility surprised her.
“We’ve met.”
The woman relaxed. “Isn’t she a doll? She’s done an amazing job taking care of her father and keeping the church activities running while he’s out.”
That didn’t surprise One-Mile. “Do you work here?”
“I just volunteer. I teach third-grade math at the elementary school down the street. But since Jasper’s surgery, I’ve tried to step in and help more.”
Probably because she wanted to be more than Jasper’s parishioner. One-Mile could tell by the way her eyes lit up when she talked about the man.
Whatever. He’d rather hear about the preacher’s pretty daughter. But—wild guess—probing Mrs. Collins about Brea’s sex life with Cutter would get him booted from here.
Instead, he leaned over the desk, jotted a quick note explaining how he’d fixed the vehicle. Then he invited her to come by his place to pick up the plastic container she’d delivered her cookies in and stay for a round of pool…or whatever she wanted. “I’m sure she appreciates you. Got an envelope?”
He didn’t need Mrs. Collins snooping.
“One minute.” She disappeared around the corner and returned with a crisp white envelope.
He tucked the paper inside, sealed it, jotted Brea’s name on the front, and left it on the desk. Then he nodded at Mrs. Collins and headed home, wondering when—or if—he’d see Brea.
Given her schedule, One-Mile didn’t really expect any company soon.
But a couple of hours later, he was kicking back with a beer, eyeing the pool table where he’d taught her how to play so he could shamelessly rub up against her, when someone started pounding on his front door. He doubted Brea was the one demanding entry with a fist…which meant she probably hadn’t been the one who read his note.
But he had a good idea who had.
Shit.
After racking his pool cue, he headed across the house and yanked the door open. Sure enough, Cutter Bryant stood on the other side, foaming mad, like a chihuahua with rabies.
“Damn it, I thought I’d taken the trash to the curb, but here you are…”
Cutter bared his teeth and shoved him back. At the unexpected push, One-Mile stumbled until he found his footing. Bryant marched in and slammed the door, then hurled his wadded-up note at his chest. One-Mile caught it reflexively.
“Listen to me, asshole. I’m only going to say this once more. Keep the fuck away from Brea. Stop talking to her, stop pursuing her, and stop writing trash like that to manipulate her into coming here so you can hook up with her.”
Who the fuck did Cutter think he was, opening her mail, then barging into his house to start shit? Normally, he would beat the hell out of the asswipe…but that wouldn’t win him any gold stars with Brea.
“Or what, you’ll bore me to death?” He feigned a yawn. “I’ve already heard this speech, and I hate reruns. So get the fuck out.”
Cutter didn’t move. “You act big and bad, like you don’t give a shit about anything. But I see through you. You’re a gaping, know-it-all sphincter. And an insecure bully. Deep down, I think you feel powerless. Did your mommy not love you enough as a kid, Walker?”
Bryant couldn’t know a damn thing about his mother, but it was still a low fucking blow, and it took all of One-Mile’s restraint not to unleash his fury on the cockroach.
“Are you too much of a pussy to throw a punch? Is that why you’re trying to hurt my feewings?” he snarked.
“Fuck you. Stay away from Brea. I mean it.”
“You act like I’m going to hurt her. I fixed the van to help her. So get off my ass and get the hell out of my house.”
Cutter didn’t budge. “I’m serious. If you keep after Brea, you’ll ruin her.”
Dramatic much? “For what? I just want to get to know her.”
The Boy Scout scoffed. “You want to take her to bed.”
Of course he did. One-Mile refused to lie. But he wanted more than Brea’s body. Still, he didn’t owe Bryant any sort of answer. He’d only be giving the bastard more ammo.
“You think you have me all figured out. I’m the player who wants to sex up your girlfriend and break her heart. But you don’t know a thing about me, asshole.” He gave Cutter a shove backward. “And you’re no fucking good for her yourself. You were too busy banging some girl you met in a bar the night before to be there for Brea when her dad collapsed. So I stepped in, you cheating douchebag. Get over it.”
“I’ve explained that day to Brea. We’re square, so where I was is none of your business.”
Bullshit. Cutter was taking advantage of her goodness and spewing lies to cover his ass while he stepped out on her. Why should she settle for that, especially when One-Mile was more than happy to appreciate her—and only her?