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)
“I drink coffee, black. Thanks.”
I go back for another mug, making sure to grab him my pink one that says, “When this is empty, it will be time to poop.” The machine beeps, and I fill two cups, dump cream and sugar in mine, and hand him his soulless black coffee. I bite my lower lip as he reads the side of his mug, concealing my laughter. He takes a sip without any reaction. Lame.
“Well, I’ve got to get to work. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back around—”
“I’m not sure that’s wise.”
My brows rise. “It’s very wise. Duty calls, and I need the money.”
“And you were just attacked. Until we’ve caught your attacker, it’s best to lay low—”
I cut him off with a laugh and sip my coffee. Then I drop my smile. “I’m going to work.”
“Mindy.”
I ignore the sexy way he says my name and walk back to my bedroom. “Sorry, Dad. Duty calls.”
I hear his grunt as I shut my door and finish getting ready, spending less time in the mirror. When I’m done, I walk out, and Tate is sitting on my couch. Or the couch is sitting under him. He’s almost bigger than it is.
“If you’re going to be difficult, we need to set some rules.”
“Rules?” He may actually be my daddy.
“First, I’m driving you.”
“Well, great, since I still don’t have my car.”
“Your car was dropped off twenty minutes ago.”
My jaw drops. “How?”
“An associate came and grabbed your keys. I had him pick it up and drop it off in the parking lot behind your building.”
“How did you get my—you know what? I don’t care. I need to get to work.”
“Rules, Mindy.”
“Okay, Daddy. What are my rules?”
“You listen to me. Stay alert. If you feel like something’s off, notice anyone who seems off, you alert me.”
“Tate, it’s a dive bar. Everyone is off.”
“More than usual.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Anything else?”
He stands, and I accidentally watch his arm muscles flex. Meow. Gross! Stop ogling your babysitter.
“Don’t try any funny shit. If I see something off, I’m pullin’ you. You look the least bit distressed, I’m pullin’ you. One out-of-line gesture, I’m—”
“I get it, you’re pullin’ me.” I shake my head and grab my jacket off the back of my chair. “And I’m going to tell you my rules. This is my job. I need this job. You do anything to jeopardize that, I’m going to take your job. Get me?”
He nods.
“Good. Let’s go. I’m going to be late.”
He’s on the move, taking the stairs and out the front door of my building. He stays in front of me, surveilling our surroundings. “It’s daytime. Who attacks someone in the middle of the day?”
He turns to me, his eyes searing into mine. “Someone who wants something bad enough.”
Chills cascade down my arms and legs. Okay, that doesn’t make me feel any better. Or stop my earlobes from tingling. “Whatever.” I try to mask my fear, but he sees it. He opens my door, and I slide into his monster ride. Leaning in, he buckles me into my seat. “Thanks,” I whisper. He nods, shuts my door, and jogs around the SUV, climbing into the driver’s seat.
I don’t bother telling him where I work or the address. Of course, he knows it. I’m tempted to ask him what my bra size is to see if he knows that too. He whips into traffic, and I can’t help thinking about what he said. Why would someone want to get to me? I’m nobody. I don’t have money or anything of value. I’m attractive, but so is the rest of New York. It has to be a fluke. Wrong place, wrong time. But the flowers? I turn to the window, squeezing my eyes closed. Don’t think about the flowers. Girls get weird shit in the mail all the time. I mean, porn isn’t the highest-grossing industry because no one watches it. That statistic is totally made up, but someone could recognize me. Thank God both my parents are dead.
We pull into the parking lot of Bev’s, my home away from home. I started working here almost five years ago after turning nineteen. My mother and my love of dancing brought me to the Big Apple. I always wanted to become a professional dancer on Broadway. It was all I dreamed about. Too bad they call them dreams for a reason. My life turned out far from the fairytale I’d envisioned.
I jump out and start walking toward the bar, not bothering to wait for Tate. “Hey, Clay.”
“S’up, Mindy. Thought Mer was working tonight?”
“Sick. I’m the lucky one to fill her spot.” I wink.
“Nice. Country night. Gonna be a good night for you.”
“Sweet.”
Walking past him, I hear him say, “Sorry, bruh. Not open ’til five.”
I turn around, finding Clay with his hand out, making a lame attempt at stopping Tate, more nervous than anything else. Clay is a big dude, but Tate dwarfs him.