Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“There are so many options; I have no idea where to start.” He smiles, and I’m back to chomping on my cheek.
“That’s okay. Most people don’t.” Sliding his hand over mine, he takes control of the mouse. “Here’s a list of tech schools. You want a specific field or job training, these would be where to look.” He scrolls down. “This one is business. Fine arts. And I believe this one focuses on performing arts.”
I let out a cynical laugh. “I think I missed the window on that opportunity.”
“How so? It takes more than dancers to create a performance.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” He continues to scroll. “Did you ever think about going to college?” I ask.
He cocks his head. “What makes you think I didn’t?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed.”
“It’s okay. I took online classes during my second tour. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to graduate with a bachelor’s in business.”
My wide smile conveys my surprise. “That’s great. Have you ever thought about doing something with it?”
“If it hasn’t been obvious, I’m not really a sit-in-an-office-all-day kinda guy.”
I scoff. “Gross. Who is? I mean, why don’t you start your own business? Bodyguard for hire?” I waggle my brow. His lips curl into a sexy smile.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Right. Okay, first things first…actually, I don’t know what’s first.”
“Why don’t we print out applications, take them back to the hotel, and fill ’em out over Chinese and some Housewives? I really need to know why Suzanne slapped Rebecca.”
I can’t help the unattractive snort that falls out. “I mean, why don’t you just describe the perfect day ever?”
Tate prints out several applications, then we gather our things, leave the library, and head to lunch. The second we park, I climb out of his SUV, breathing in the smell of garlic and sesame oil. My stomach growls, and I can barely stop myself from drooling. Shoving an egg roll into my mouth won’t happen soon enough.
“If you’re not feeling Chinese, we can go get smoothies inst—”
“One more word, and me and the alien in my stomach will stab you. I hope they’re ready for the lunch rush—the lunch rush being us. I plan on ordering a lot.”
Tate chuckles and steps up onto the curb. “Message received.” His hand rests against my lower back, and he reaches for the restaurant door, but the door opens before he can grab it, and we step back as two people walk out.
“Well, well… Look what the cat dragged in.”
I’m so focused on Tate and the menu that I don’t realize Chad is pushing past me until it’s too late. My eyes shoot to his, and my stomach drops. “Not happy to see me?” His laugh makes me nauseous. His eyes trail to Tate, then back to me. “Really miss you at work, Minds. My cock always liked the—”
“Keep fucking walking, asshole,” Tate growls, low and feral.
Chad laughs, his eyes staying trained on me. “Shame Russell fired you. I’ll still let you suck my dick off the clock—”
Chad is thrown against the building. Cocking his fist back, Tate slams it into Chad’s face. Blood instantly spurts from his nose, and his date screams.
“You say one more word to her, I’ll do more than break your fucking nose,” Tate hisses, stepping back.
“You motherfucker! That’s assault! You’re so fucking screwed, man!”
“Yeah? How about I break each one of your fingers so you won’t be able to jerk yourself off.”
“Fuck you!”
I barely have a chance to blink before Tate has Chad’s hand gripped in his, snapping his index finger. “What was that?”
Chad howls out. “You’re fucking crazy! I’m suing your ass! Hope the bitch is worth—okay! Okay!” he yelps as Tate bends another finger back. Tate nods, releasing him, and Chad slides down the wall, cradling his hand.
“Let’s go.” Cupping my arm, he walks us back to his car. After getting me settled, he runs around and climbs in, taking off down the street.
I stay silent, listening to Tate’s heavy breathing. As soon as it evens out, I say, “Does this mean no Chinese food?” Not the time for jokes, but what the fuck just happened? I’m not sure whether to be freaked out or turned on. “Um…is that, like, in your contract?”
“Probably not.” He pulls into a corner convenient store.
Shit. “Can he really sue you?”
“I’m not worried about him. I’ve gotta make a call. Sit tight.” Getting out, he walks to the back of his SUV. I watch through the passenger side mirror as he opens the back latch and removes his shirt. Tossing it in the trash, he slides on a fresh one, then pulls out his phone and steps away.
Guilt tightens my chest. What if Chad meant what he said? The strain in Tate’s brows tells me there might be some sort of blowback. Maybe I should go back and try to convince Chad not to press charges. Or maybe I should just tell him not to be such a prick so giant bodyguards don’t take nose shots. “Ugh…” Tate’s jaw is tight. His lips are moving fast. I unlatch my seatbelt to get out when my phone vibrates. I look at the screen. Vince. Shit.