Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
“I guess that’s it, other than for me to show you around and where everything is.” Siren gave her a considering look, making no attempt to move from where she stood. “So, are you staying, or am I waking Doom?”
Stubbornly, Arden stared back. “I’m staying.”
CHAPTER 10
THE ACCIDENT
Doom left his room and walked down the hallway, prepared for Siren to tell him that Arden had left ten minutes after her shift had started. He’d have to remember to ask Siren at what part did Arden say she quit, or if she had just left without a word.
Turning the corner, however, he came to an abrupt stop at seeing the woman he would have sworn wouldn’t have lasted half an hour, much less the whole day.
Taking the same stool he had sat on this morning, Doom glared at Arden as she gave Puck a beer before turning toward him.
Siren broke off talking with Buck to stand in front of him. “Can I get you something?”
“Beer,” he told her curtly.
“Looks like Celeste is winning the bet she made with you.” Siren wasn’t fazed by his bad mood.
He wasn’t surprised Celeste had told the other woman about the bet. Siren might be a hell of a bartender, but a secret-keeper, she wasn’t. It wouldn’t matter if Siren told anyone else; Celeste wanted bragging rights if she accomplished something no other woman in the club could say they had done.
Staring around the bar, he couldn’t figure out what was different.
Siren grinned, noticing his frown. “It’s the lights.”
He returned his eyes to hers. “What?”
“Everyone’s been asking what’s different. It’s the lights over the bar. Arden fixed them when she noticed they weren’t working. They haven’t worked since Rider fixed them the last time.”
He looked to Arden, who was still talking to Puck just a couple of stools over, within hearing distance of his and Siren’s conversation.
“Arden’s dad works for the school district. When she was little, he would take her to work with him on the weekends. He repairs things around the schools, and she learned how to do odd jobs by watching him.”
“Was working on bar lights one of those jobs?” he said, raising his voice to make sure Arden could hear him as he twisted the cap off his beer. “I thought you said he worked at a school, not a bar.”
At his snide remark, Arden turned her head in his direction. “Someone needs to go back to bed and get up on the right side.”
Siren eyed each of them interestedly. “Don’t mind him. Doom’s normal persona is being a grumpy asshole.”
Doom glared at Siren from over the lip of his beer.
“Yeah? He has that down pat. Maybe he should try something new.” Arden gave him a mocking smile. “Have you tried cheerful yet? Or—” Arden moved away from Puck to lean against the counter, as if she wanted to share a secret with him, “sociable?”
Surly, he wanted to drag her over the counter and give her something to think about other than the humor she was regarding him with.
Lifting the beer bottle to his lips to buy time to get the attraction, which had just hit him with the force of a four-by-four between his eyes, under control, Doom saw he had missed a couple of other details since he had left to sleep.
Arden’s hair, which had been sitting sleekly on the top of her head, was now a hot mess. Several wisps had escaped the bun and were drooping to the side. Her frilly bow was dirt stained and as flat as a tire, and the pristine white blouse showed several drops of what appeared to be bloodstains.
Lowering the beer bottle, he narrowed his eyes on her, checking her face and hands. “Is that blood on your shirt?” Becoming disturbed at the thought that she had hurt herself, he caught himself when he saw Puck and Buck turn their gazes from the television mounted on the far wall, watching him.
Arden made a face, glancing down at herself. “Yes.”
“Are you hurt?” Doom didn’t take his eyes off Arden when he asked the question. Fuck, even Siren straightened from leaning against the counter at his harsh tone.
“No.” Arden waved the question away. “It isn’t my blood.”
Making sure to use a deliberately neutral cadence in his voice, Doom was able to mask the lethal intent he was unexpectedly feeling. “Then whose blood is it?”
“I didn’t catch his name.” Arden shrugged.
“Legion,” Siren supplied helpfully, lowering her mirth-filled gaze when he turned his head to look directly at her.
“What happened?”
“It was an accident,” Arden explained. “I was reaching for more glasses on the top shelf. Siren was busy, so I climbed up onto the counter.” Arden pointed to the wooden counter behind the bar. “I didn’t see him coming up behind me, and as I was climbing back down, my elbow accidently hit him on the nose.”