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)
It's not only my pride that I have to worry about. People in town will talk about that score. Getting a one hundred is the expectation and to drop below that gives them something to gossip about. I'm not going to lose customers because of it, but it still chaps my ass a little.
Adrian Falk, the health inspector, actually lives here in Lindell. Although he wouldn't let major infractions slide by, he normally would've given Megan the chance to pull the towel from the sink rather than hit the bar with a violation. I don't expect any sort of special treatment, but it feels like it was an assholish thing to do while I wasn't here when he arrived.
I'm surprised to see Claire come through the door fifteen minutes before her shift. I imagined she was lying about her kid two days ago and was working on the assumption that she'd just quit.
She smiles at the customers as she heads to grab her apron and does what she always does, looking out over the bar and seeing where her attention is needed the most.
"How's your daughter?" I ask when she steps closer to me.
"A little better. She still can't breathe out of her nose. It makes for some very long nights."
I can see the exhaustion in her eyes and the darkening of skin under it.
"Do you want me to see if Megan can work the wedding tomorrow?"
She narrows her eyes at me. "Why would I want that? Does this have anything to do with—"
"If you're tired, maybe you should rest."
I know the second the words leave my mouth that they were the wrong thing to say, but it's impossible to pull them back in.
She steps in closer to me, that delicious scent of sugar cookies that she carries on her skin infiltrating my nose. My body's reaction to it is beyond embarrassing.
"If I rested every time I was tired, I'd never get out of bed."
Jesus, also not the best thing to say to me right now. I can think of so many scenarios that include this woman in a bed for hours on end.
I swallow as she lifts up on the tips of her toes.
"I can handle the wedding tomorrow. The question is can you handle what we did the other night in a way that doesn't interfere with my job here?"
"I can handle it," I promise, my throat working on a swallow.
Her eyes dip to my neck, pausing for the briefest of seconds on my lips. I swear it takes every ounce of power I have not to pull her to the back and revisit exactly what we did the other night.
The woman is so damned dangerous. She's so alluring and delicious that she could easily take up every waking thought if I let it. Who am I kidding? She's in my thoughts constantly.
"I finalized the list for tomorrow. Would you like to see it?"
She takes a step back, but the distance only makes me want to reach out to her and pull her closer again.
"I don't think that's necessary. Would you like me to meet you here to help you get everything loaded?"
I shake my head. It's hard enough fighting the urge to put my mouth on her while people are here. We'd never make it to the Graves Estate if she showed up here to help me and we were left alone.
"Three o'clock at the manor would be good. I already took the bar over there this morning, so I could get Chase to help me move the thing. It's heavy and damn near required a forklift."
I feel on display when her eyes drop to my arms, and I fight the urge to flex. Maybe I'm not mistaking her interest in me, and I can only hope she's picturing me using all of my strength to move the massive bar.
I swear I can feel her hand again on my lower stomach, her fingers tracing the dips and valleys of my abdominal muscles.
"Table six has been waiting for a drink for a few minutes if you wanted to get clocked in a few minutes early," I say, instead of suggesting a little one-on-one meeting in the back room.
She nods, her tongue sneaking out, the pink tip barely visible as she wets her lips.
I swear the very last thing I need right now is to be picturing this woman tracing that piece of her over the tip of my leaking cock.
I turn away from her abruptly, but I can only pretend that the paperwork on the bar top has all of my attention for a few seconds. The moment she steps out from behind the bar to head to table six, my eyes are locked on that fine ass of hers.
As the night goes on, there's always some part of me that is paying attention to her. I realize ten minutes into her shift that fighting the urge to look around and find her in the bar is futile. I do better when I just accept it and let it happen. I don't know if I look up and glance at the patrons when she isn't here as often, but if anyone questions my darting eyes, I can argue that I'm just keeping an eye on my business.