Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
He doesn't speak, doesn't taunt me about last night, but the simple gleam in his eyes tells me that he knows I can still feel the echo of him deep inside of me. He twists off the top of his beer, and my eyes drop to his mouth as he takes his first sip, his tongue lashing out to capture a stray drop that clings to his bottom lip.
I swear I feel the swipe of it on my skin, and the sparkle in his eyes tells me every one of his secrets.
I take the twenty he slides across the bar, not knowing how I should feel when he waves off his change.
Is it a thank you for last night? Payment for last night? Is he hoping I leave him the fuck alone? Does he want to meet again tonight?
A million questions swirl in my head as I shove the bill into the tip jar and turn my attention back to Jersey and Carlen, but neither man wants to speak. They'd rather drill holes in the side of Owen's head, the man quite content to just stare in my direction rather than acknowledge the attention he's getting from elsewhere.
Jersey, feeling more than a little sorry for himself, cashes out before leaving. Carlen doesn't stay much longer after his friend, and it leaves just Owen and I alone in the bar.
I could ignore him the way I did last night, but I find it more than impossible to do so with a million questions bouncing around in my head.
I wipe down the counter in front of him.
"It's clean," he says, his voice flat and emotionless.
"How did you know where I lived?"
"I followed you home the other night," he answers without hesitation.
I should probably feel a little worried that a stranger followed me home, and even more so when I realize that I know for a fact that there wasn't a headlight in my rearview mirror because I was looking for one, hoping he would've changed his mind.
"How did my car get to my house?"
I left with him on the bike and he took me home. I was worried about a ride to work when I looked outside and found my car sitting in the driveway.
"Had it towed," he responds, lifting his beer to his lips.
"What do I owe you for the tow?"
"Nothing you didn't pay me for last night."
"If I fucked you for a tow, then I should get your change out of the tip jar."
Instead of backpedaling or growing indignant, that dimple deepens once again, making me want to trace it with the tip of one finger.
I glare at him, but the front door opens, and a group of rowdy women I've never seen before enter with a whoop.
They gather around a pub table, forcing me out from behind the bar like a waitress rather than one of them coming to get the entire table's order.
"Merry Christmas," I tell them as I approach.
Several of them smile in my direction, their eyes already glassy, telling me this isn't going to be their first drink tonight.
"You gals have twenty minutes left to order," I say. "We close a little early tonight for the holiday."
"We're doing a bar crawl," the most sober one says. "They'll all have margaritas. I'll take a bottle of water."
"On the rocks okay?"
She dips her head, and I feel grateful that I don't have to fish the blender out of the back. It's a huge pain in the ass to clean, and I’d rather spend my night doing something else instead.
I'm aware of Owen's eyes on me the entire time I make the drinks. I carry them to the table, smiling when the woman who asked for water urges all of them to drink quickly, because "it's time for you bitches to go to bed."
Laughter from the table swarms around me, but it's only a few minutes later that the women leave, a huge tip for the trouble left behind on the table with the empty margarita glasses.
"I want you again," Owen growls when I'm standing back in front of him.
I can't help the way my skin heats, a flush inching its way onto my cheeks.
"On one condition," I say, watching with alarm when he sits up straighter on his barstool as if this will be the moment he begins to argue with me. "It has to be indoors. I'm pretty certain I have a mild case of frostbite on my nipples from last night."
My eyes widen when laughter erupts from his lips, a sound I would've lost the bet that I'd ever hear it.
Just as I suspected, his dimple is devastating, his eyes alight with humor.
The laughter stops as quickly as it started, but the glint of happiness in his eyes lingers for a few seconds longer, making me feel special.