Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
I’d been so wrapped up in my world, thinking I was the center of everything, that I forgot that people existed outside of my little universe. That there were people living their own lives who didn’t give a shit about me. Who didn’t notice me. Who would forget me in a moment.
It was liberating.
I’d lain in bed the entire next day, watching movies that I’d never got to watch, eating food that Preston never would’ve let into the house, and feeling relaxed in a way I never had before.
The sheets were scratchy. The walls were thin. The shower water was either scalding hot or ice cold. But it was paradise to me.
I stayed for two nights, reveling in my newfound freedom, not thinking of the future, of a plan. I worried that if I did, it might ruin everything. I’d made a promise to myself on the first night there, giving myself a deadline. Three months. I could have three months of exploring the country, eating what I wanted, sleeping when and where I wanted, without pressure. Without acknowledging the realities that lay ahead.
After that three months was done, that’s when I’d make the scary decisions. That’s when I’d research divorce lawyers, figure out what exactly I’d tell my daughter when she got home, and make a plan for my future.
But if I lived smart, I had more than enough money for three months in mid-range hotels, eating food from chain restaurants. I might even find somewhere I wanted to settle. Somewhere small, somewhere far away from Carver Springs. Somewhere without McMansions and manicured lawns and yoga studios. Somewhere with a soul. But I had no destination, no itinerary, nothing.
Which was how I found myself in Garnett, New Mexico. Even though it was spelled with an extra ‘T’, I couldn’t help but feel like it being named after my birthstone meant something.
I loved it the second I set foot in it. The sweltering heat, thick and unyielding. The vast desert, mountains in the distance. The town itself was small, houses varying in size, but almost all of them were well maintained, had personality to them. The main street was littered with homey mom-and-pop stores. Of course, there were still big-box stores—there was nowhere you could escape a Walmart or a Target—but it felt like it had a personality I was looking for. Appealing to the eye without being pretentious. Small but not so small that I’d stick out as a stranger in town.
Safe.
I was only beginning to understand what that word meant, what that feeling was. Although I’d felt freer than I had in years, there was an edge to there too. An undercurrent of panic, unease, inevitability. That there was a time limit on this, that eventually he’d find me, drag me back, and I’d once again be trapped in that life.
It was that edge that had me turning up to a biker compound for a party.
It was pure chance that even had me knowing about it. I’d been at the gas station picking up some snacks and a six pack of beer—I’d acquired quite a taste for it—when a man in a leather vest had approached me.
He was quite possibly the most attractive man I’d seen in my life. He was younger than me, maybe. It was hard to tell. There was a… man-ness about him that seemed utterly timeless. A dark, heavy brow, a slightly crooked nose and riveting gray eyes. His beard was chocolate brown, just like the shoulder length hair on his head, and it only accentuated his ruggedness.
Then there were the muscles.
Holy hell.
They damn near ripped apart the fabric of the black tee he was wearing underneath the leather vest. His chest was broad, pecs defined underneath the fabric. The skin that was exposed was covered in tattoos. Absolutely covered. Right to his fingers.
He was imposing. With his muscles, his stature, the beard and the vest, I knew that signified him belonging to some kind of motorcycle gang. Given my history, I should’ve turned around and ran when such a man approached me in a quiet gas station.
But if there was anything I’d learned, it was the look of cruelty in a man’s eyes. The absence of something.
This man’s eyes were warm, melty. They made my stomach flip in a way that I hadn’t thought was possible, reminded me that I was a woman. One with independent desires and needs.
“Hey, darlin’, haven’t seen you around before,” he drawled, his voice deep and throaty.
I had to blink and glance behind me to ensure it was me who this muscled bad boy was addressing.
There was no one behind me.
He grinned and sauntered closer. Not close enough to be threatening or make me uncomfortable, but to show he was addressing me. That he was interested in me.
“I’d remember if I’d seen you before,” he continued, eyes running up and down my body slowly.