Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
We both laugh. High school was so long ago, but for some who never really left town and experienced things outside of the city limits, it seems those stories will never die.
What happened with Sage Douglas was old news to me, but Barrett went to school here. Other than a vacation or so a year he’s never really left town or experienced life outside of Lindell, Texas. It's why he's insistent on bringing up those stories. Honestly, the guy needs to get out of his grandma's basement and see what the real world has to offer, but I guess I can't really talk. I saw what the real world was, and I couldn't seem to get back to town quick enough.
I swallow, thinking how I thought Lindell was safe, a community protected somehow from the traumas and pain occurring elsewhere in the world. Pain and tragedy struck our quiet town two years ago, and my world has never been the same.
Jason, my twin brother, was shot and killed in the middle of the town square along with two other people by men who were angry that their illegal sex trafficking ring was dismantled. I was so angry for so long about losing him. There are still days I want to hunt those men and the ones just like them until the world is eradicated of men who think it's okay to take others' liberties the way they did.
"Is there a reason you're calling me on a Sunday?" Barrett asks, his tone still light with the laughter we shared, whereas my mood has taken a sharp right turn into misery.
"I want to talk to you about Claire Kennedy," I begin, my anger shifting away from the terrorist to him when he whistles in a suggestive way that makes me want to jump through the phone and wrap my hands around his neck until he turns purple.
"That is one fine specimen of a woman."
"She's the widow of a serviceman," I correct. "She didn't get her SGLI payout. Are you able to look into it and see where it went?"
"Is there a reason you're calling about this instead of her?"
"Can you look into it or not?"
"For you? No. The government just doesn't hand out information because someone wants to know something. Hell, it's a battle to get information when you have a legal right to it. For Claire, however, as his widow, I'm sure I could get some information, but she'll need to be the one to retain me."
Retain me... short for give me money, something I know Claire doesn't have.
"I'll pay your retainer fee," I say because the last thing I want is this guy talking her into some form of a percentages of her payout. I'm not saying the guy is a jackass, but he's also running a business. If she can't pay his fee upfront, this would be her only other option.
"That still won't give you rights or access to the information."
"I don't need the information. I want her to have the information," I explain.
"Have her call me," he says. "And if you're paying, I'm going to bill you for this time."
"Of course, you are," I say before hanging up.
After speaking to Barrett, I shower, but it does nothing to relieve the itch coating my skin. Distracting myself with tasks around the house doesn't help, and I know as my day goes on, that there's nothing that will alleviate the tingle on my skin but her.
It's a craving, an awakened part of me that I know I'm going to struggle to get back under control.
I fight the urge to drive past her house, considering what happened the last time.
She dressed so quickly last night that even an idiot could see she regretted what we did immediately, and I couldn't help but internalize her actions. It wasn't bad sex for her. I know that from the way her body trembled against mine. But even great sex can be regretted because it's never just about the physical aspect of it.
I don't know why I'm letting it get me all tangled up. What did I expect her to do? Get comfortable in my cramped office? There was no other recourse than getting dressed and going home, but she didn't even run her hand down my chest or cling to me for a second.
Maybe most single guys would want a woman to react the way she did, to not have any urgency to talk or cuddle or stay connected in any other way. Maybe they dream of the interactions where the woman they just got intimate with slaps them on the ass, tells them good game, and asks them to grab her shoes from across the room.
However, I'm not like other men. I'm the type that would cuddle willingly if they asked. Hell, last night, I would've asked for it myself if she hadn't come in one breath and gotten dressed and darted from the room in the next.