Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Sounds good,” he says, and then gives a mock shudder. “But I’m always afraid that crazy bitch will show up.”
He’s talking about Nanette, of course. She’s become quite the menace to our team recently, and I’m eternally grateful that I never hooked up with her. Dax hasn’t said much about the few times he fucked her, but I take that to mean she wasn’t that great. Usually forward women like that are a lot of talk and are pretty much boring as shit in bed.
Still, regardless if I fucked her or not, that bitch still named me in a bogus sexual harassment lawsuit, so she better not show up. No telling what I’d do to her.
“Hey, Erik,” Dax says looking at something over my shoulder. “Isn’t that Blue? The flight attendant?”
I whip around so fast I fucking knock my margarita off the table and it goes flying into some low bushes. My eyes scan the crowd for her golden yellow hair and sexy-as-fuck body.
Dax laughs and says, “God, you have it bad for her.”
I so do, although I haven’t admitted that out loud to anyone. The fact she won’t give me the time of day makes her infinitely hotter to me for some reason.
Pure and simple, she’s become a challenge to me, because I’ve yet to meet a woman I want who hasn’t at some point yielded. I figure she’s playing hard to get, and I very much enjoy the chase.
Finally I see her through the crowd. She’s walking slightly bent over, perhaps carrying something heavy with both arms. For the life of me I can’t figure out what, and then the sea of people parts and I see her clearly.
She’s bent slightly because she’s pushing a wheelchair. In it is a young man, and although I couldn’t begin to guess his age, he’s definitely an adult. Then I notice a few other people in wheelchairs, each with someone pushing them. None of the people in the chairs are children, though. There are also a few adults that are ambulating with assistive devices like walkers or hand crutches.
“Think she works for a group home or something?” Dax asks, indicating that he sees what I see.
“No clue,” I tell him. “Maybe she volunteers there or something. I figure she has to make pretty good bank working on the team plane.”
“You’re probably right,” he says.
My food is forgotten and I don’t even think about getting a refill on my margarita. I happily stand at my table and just watch Blue. She pushes the wheelchair to the edge of the dance floor and bends down to say something in the man’s ear. I note his arms are contracted inward but he twists his neck to look at her. He smiles at her brightly and his head sort of jerks up and down, which I take to mean he likes whatever she just told him. He then extends an arm toward the dance floor. It doesn’t fully stretch out, but he makes a jabbing motion that way.
Blue grins at him and nods.
She locks the brakes on the chair, walks around to the front, and squats to lift up the footrests before moving them to the side. Blue gently sets his feet to the concrete, then stands, bends at the waist, and lets the man wrap his arms around her neck. She in turn places her arms around his waist, and with a mighty effort, pulls him up from the chair. His legs can’t extend fully, so Blue takes on a good deal of his weight, but they just stand there, face to face, swaying.
Dancing.
They’re dancing.
The man wanted to dance and Blue gave it to him.
She leans her head back to look at the guy, and he grins back at her with bright eyes. Blue wiggles a bit faster, swaying them both a little quicker, and I can actually hear the man’s laugh across the music.
Fuck…it might be the goddamned sweetest thing I’ve ever seen before.
“Oh no,” Dax says low and in warning. “I know that look.”
I don’t bother to give him my attention, keeping my eyes pinned on Blue. But I do ask him, “What look?”
“Your gaze just became predatory,” he says with a laugh.
“What the fuck ever,” I growl at him, but then I’m walking toward Blue.
No thought.
No rhyme or reason.
The woman can’t seem to stand me within five feet of her, and yet I have to go say hello.
You know…just to be polite.
Although the song continues to play, Blue is lowering the man back into the wheelchair before I reach her. My guess is that wasn’t about Blue’s physical stamina but the man’s. She smiles up at the guy as she squats back down to get his feet situated in the rests, and then as she starts to rise, her eyes catch me as I close in.