Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
“What’s wrong?”
Her startled stare bounces up to me. Is she surprised that I can read her? “I’m just out of my element. When I lived in California, work kept me really busy. I never had time for friends or…”
Dates. Boyfriends. Lovers. That’s what she means. I frown. Her claim makes no sense. She has to be lying. A woman as sexy and intriguing as Bethany must have had men crawling after her since puberty.
“Anyway…” she goes on. “It’s nice to talk to someone. Thanks.”
I’m going to have to decipher her statement later in detail, figure out how her assertion is even possible. For now, I smile. I’m making progress. And I need to set her at ease. “You can talk to me anytime.”
She takes a delicate bite of her sandwich, chews, then swallows it down with some water before cocking her head at me. “Why are you being so nice? If you were hitting on me, the answer would be obvious. But you haven’t—thank you for that—but I’m confused.”
By the fact we’re relative strangers chatting amicably? Or because we’re people who have no particular agenda in mind except getting to know each other? “Why? My motto is that you can never have too many friends. When we first met, that guy hounding you pissed me off. And I guess it’s the protective older brother in me—”
“I’m pretty sure I’m older than you.”
“Doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s the man in me. Either way, I don’t like bullies. I especially don’t like bullies who prey on women.”
She smiles softly. “Your parents raised you right.”
“I like to think so. Speaking of parents, where were yours this holiday?”
“My mother married not long ago, and I’m giving her and her husband some space.” Bethany looks away and shuts down. “My father and I…”
Nearly a minute passes before I resign myself to the fact that she doesn’t intend to finish that sentence. “You said it’s complicated?”
“Very.”
“Do you know where he is?” I know he’s out on bail, but where is he living until the trial?
“Not exactly.”
They aren’t in contact? After being his accomplice for years and scamming their clients with him, now that he’s been implicated and arrested, is she cutting him loose? If so, that’s cold…
“Did you speak to him at all?”
“He left me a voice mail.”
“And?” I want to demand an answer right now, but she’s stiff and definitely uncomfortable. We’ll come back to this line of questioning later, when I’ve gained more of her trust, made inroads. I can’t expect that she’ll spill all her secrets to me after a few hours.
“And that’s it. How’s your burger?” she asks.
Another dead end. I fight not to grit my teeth and nod instead. “Good.”
She sends me a little smile, and I chow down a bit more, give her time to relax. I even volunteer to fetch her more water after she empties her cup.
When I return, I realize she’s almost done with her sandwich. So am I. My limited time is ticking by too quickly. I need to try to push again, this time from a different angle.
“So I hear that barfly bugging you yesterday has been hounding you since you started working at the bar. Is he just trying to get you into bed? If so, calling you a fucking bitch isn’t going to win him any brownie points.”
“He’s a jerk.” She sidesteps my question.
“Absolutely. I wanted to punch him in the face.” I can say that with all honesty.
When I glance at her wrist, I’m a little shocked to see bruises forming in the shape of his fingers. I don’t think twice before I reach across the table and take her hand in mine.
There’s that fucking jolt of awareness again. Across from me, I hear her smother a gasp.
I swallow down my hot rush of renewed lust. “Beth, this looks horrible. You should have let me get you some ice.”
With a shrug, she tugs her hand free. “I’ll be fine. I’m getting really tired and I’d like to get home.”
In other words, I finally crossed the line and shoved her out of her comfort zone. She’s done for the night.
Fuck.
“Sure.”
Silently, she rises and cleans up after herself, then lifts her purse onto her shoulder. She looks nervous again.
I send her a smile I hope has some charm and motion her to the door. “This way…”
Bethany heads to the parking lot. I wish she hadn’t thrown a baggy T-shirt over her bikini top. I wish I didn’t notice her smooth, firm legs and her gorgeous ass sway with every step. Weirdly—and not merely because I need information—I wish she’d stop shutting me out.
In the car, she settles into the passenger’s seat and closes her eyes with a sigh.
“Tired?”
She turns to me. “Confused.”
I start up the car and head east down the road. “Why’s that?”
“I know Montana propositioned you tonight.”