Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Like I told him, he’d do the same for me in a heartbeat.
I put the hood over my head and started making my way down the street. Traffic in the city was god-awful, and people were so damn aggressive it was like acid ran through their veins. And I normally just kept my head down, plastered a smile on my face, and focused on my dad and myself.
For me, that was the only way to survive in the sardine-packed city.
The breeze picked up, and I shivered, the weather seeming to get colder the more I walked.
We had a few good days of decent sunshine, even allowing some of the snow to melt, but that just created that dirty slush the cars splashed up on you if you weren’t careful and walked too close to the curb.
But I couldn’t wait for the warm weather, when we could shed the layers.
About ten minutes later I stopped in front of Lyrics. I had to admit, I was secretly praying I got this job. I loved this place, even though I’d only been here a handful of times over the years.
They did open mic nights and had some of the most incredible amateur jazz singers and musicians I’d ever heard. The atmosphere just called to me, and although I was applying for a waitressing job, I was still pretty excited at the prospect of working here.
I pulled the heavy wooden door open, the hinges creaking slightly, and stepped inside. The lights were low, the sound of a vacuum going somewhere in a back room breaking up the silence.
It was the middle of the day, and the bar didn’t open until the evenings, so the place was dead. I exhaled and tried the door, but wasn’t surprised it was locked. I brought my knuckles down on the scarred wood and took a step back. A moment later it swung open, two men carrying large empty wooden crates walking out. I stepped aside as they made their way past me.
“Can you hold that door for us, please? We’re just grabbing a couple more.”
I nodded to one of the guys who’d asked, and propped the door open as I watched them head to a van parked right in front of the bar by the curb. Only a few moments passed and then they were heading back inside, a large wooden crate in each of their beefy arms. The brand of liquor was burned onto the side of the wood, and the sound of glass bottles clanking together as they were lightly shifting from the movement, echoed in my ears.
“Thanks,” they both said in unison to me as they walked in.
I stepped inside, the lightening in the bar low, and the sound of soft music played overhead.
“Need Bishop to sign the paperwork,” one of the burly men said and pulled out a stack of papers that were rolled and had been shoved into his back pocket.
“Probably in the back,” the other man grunted, and the two headed toward the narrow, short hallway before turning into one of the rooms that had its door open.
I just stood there, unsure if I should go back there as well or wait for my interviewer to come out.
I could hear the men talking; then there was some deep laughter. A moment later the two delivery guys left, mumbling to themselves, not paying me any attention, which was fine by me.
I didn’t have to wonder long if I should head back or not, because before I could make up my mind, a man was walking out from the room the delivery guys had just come from.
He was looking down at a stack of papers in his hand, his focus solely on that, his short dark hair disheveled around his head, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. And as if my thoughts conjured that, he lifted a hand and ran his fingers through the locks, mussing them up.
The next thing I noticed was that he was tall and lean, muscular, as if he had a swimmer’s physique. He hadn’t introduced himself, but the way he held himself told me this was the owner. Bishop.
He glanced up and looked toward the bar, presumably at the liquor that had just been delivered, and then his head swiveled in my direction before he stopped.
He halted as if some invisible force pulled him to a stop. I saw his eyes flare slightly as he blatantly checked me out. My body instantly reacted in an aroused way, and I was embarrassed that his appraisal of me affected me this much.
I gave him a smile, which I knew didn’t reach my eyes, because on top of being nervous, I was getting turned on and liked the fact that my would-be employer was eye-fucking me.
He rolled up the paperwork and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans, giving me a smile, his straight white teeth flashing, a dimple showing in his cheek. And my heart decided to do some weird beat at the sight of that, this warmth filling me. But then I saw his expression change as realization clicked into place.