Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Senior year of high school. I decided I liked broccoli after all.”
“Ha. Exactly.”
“Changing your mind all the time seems wishy-washy to me. I’m a man of convictions.”
“Convictions like loving your truck and your whiskey? Ever notice how women in country songs are always singing about either getting revenge on their cheating boyfriends and husbands or escaping their shitty lives? Are those your convictions?”
“I never cheated once. You?”
When she doesn’t answer right away, I glance her way, surprised. Her mouth’s a little dropped open, but she immediately looks furious when she sees me looking at her. “Drew and I have an understanding.”
Who the fuck is Drew?
“Well damn, Red. See? Maybe some cultural traditions ought not to change. I wouldn’t have an understanding with any woman of mine.”
“I shouldn’t have expected someone like you to understand.” She’s rubbing her temples with both hands.
“Have you been seeing anyone new who might be mad about this so-called understanding?”
“Are you serious?” she says, voice about an octave higher than it was a second before, hands dropping. “Are you saying it’s my fault I’m being stalked?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I’m just trying to get an accurate picture. Jealousy’s a powerful motivator.”
“I know this might be hard for a caveman like you to understand, but some of us are a little more evolved than basic grown-up relationships.”
“Grown up,” I scoff. “How old even are you? Twenty-five? Twenty-six?”
There’s silence in the seat beside me. I frown and look over at her. “Twenty-four?”
She sits up in her seat and puts her shoulders back. “I’m twenty-two.”
Fuck me, she’s twenty-two?
“And I know it might shock you, but women don’t have to be the ‘little woman,’ relegated to the kitchen anymore.”
“Don’t believe that’s what I said,” I mutter, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the woman—whose tits I’ve occasionally been glancing at—wasn’t even born in the same millennia as me. Jesus.
“Please. Are you saying you wouldn’t think you owned your woman and had a say about everything she did with her body? Moira’s got the right idea. She does what she wants when she wants.”
“Moira’s a sex addict who’s fucked in the head.”
“How can you say that? I thought you were one of her partners. Or did you start to get possessive of her after you stuck your dick in her a few times?”
“More than a few times,” I mutter. “And no, I was never possessive of Moira. And I never considered her my woman. She’s just a willing and enthusiastic fuck, and a man’s got needs.”
“And women don’t?”
She obviously does. Twenty-two. Fuck.
“How old are you, anyway?”
Too old for you. Not that it matters. I’m her personal protection officer. Nothing’s gonna happen here. No way. No how.
“Thirty-six,” I answer as I pull into the Adolphus. “So, who’s this Drew guy?”
I jam the gearshift into park.
She glares at me and shoves her door open.
“My fiancé,” she says before climbing down and slamming the door behind her.
FOUR
KIRA
“You’ve got a fiancé?” he asks as he follows on my heels through the double doors of the Adolphus.
Thirty-sex. Thirty-sex. Thirty-sex. I swear I heard him say thirty-sex.
Shut up, stupid brain!
I stalk to the desk, reaching into my purse for my wallet. It’s almost midnight, and I’m exhausted.
“Yes,” I hiss, “and I’ve got a big engagement party on Friday that I’m supposed to be getting my beauty sleep for all week. Now, hush.”
“Damn, woman,” he says, annoyingly able to keep up with his stupid long legs as I all but sprint toward the concierge. “I’m definitely not as evolved as you. But I do have to say I like your style. This place is great.”
I glance around in irritation at all the gleaming wood paneling on the walls and the heavy carpet. Ugh. This place is awful. It’s meant for the old-school Texans to feel at home when they visit Dallas, so of course Isaak loves it.
I ignore him and address the night concierge. “Hi. I need a room. Two rooms.”
“Adjoining rooms,” Isaak says, coming up beside me and putting an arm around my shoulder. I shrug him off and glare at him, then roll my eyes but acquiesce.
“Adjoining rooms,” I amend to the concierge. “Or a suite.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the middle-aged man says, looking Isaak up and down before smiling genteelly back at me. “The Cowboys-Eagles game is this weekend, so we’ve been booked out for weeks.”
“But it’s only Monday!” I object.
Both the concierge and Isaak look at me like I’ve just said something foolish and of course the hotel is already booked out for Friday’s game.
“It’s a rival game, and there are some other conferences in town.” the concierge deigns to explain. “Everyone’s full. But you’re in luck; I just had a cancellation.”
“We’ll take it,” Isaak says before I can get a word out.
“Excellent,” the concierge says. “I’ll need a card on file for incidentals.”