Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“I don’t blame him for coming back early,” I said, wincing. “I’m sorry I haven’t been yet.”
“Babe, don’t give a fuck if you need longer. Just wanted to check in on you. That’s all it is. Don’t need to rush back. Gonna have my cousin around the shop too if I need extra hands in the meantime.”
My heart constricted, worried he was trying to replace me, sticking this cousin of his in my place, then just say Welp, you took too long to get back here.
And I needed the job.
I mean, true, I still had the stacks of cash he’d given me. I’d been too busy trying to track down my brother and figure out what he’d gotten himself into and, who with, to spend any of it, save on one of my bills that came do since I’d gotten it.
“That’s nice,” I said, hating how tight my voice sounded, my tension that I could usually tamp down, keep under wraps, coming right to the surface thanks to all the worry, lack of sleep, and too much coffee. “To have family around,” I added.
“Yeah, he’s been away for a long time. It’s good to see him again. I left him at the club a little bit ago.”
“To check on me?” I asked. “Don’t let me keep you from him,” I said as he set Evander on the counter and moved into the shoebox-sized kitchen with me.
“Nah, it was time to go. He was dancing with some girls. I woulda just been in the way of him taking them home.”
“Them?” I asked, brows raising. “Together?”
“Yeah, probably,” he said, and that sexy little smirk of his was way too appealing.
And close.
God, he was so close.
When I reached up to grab the mugs, my whole arm brushed against his shoulder. I swear the sizzle worked its way down my arm, across my chest, down my belly, and pooled in my core.
“What is that smell?” he asked, ice water over my heating-up libido.
“What?” I gasped, stomach flopping. “I, ah, probably need to shower,” I said, taking a step away from him.
To that, he let out this little rumbling laugh that rolled through me, making me shudder.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You always smell like blueberry jam,” he said, making my muscles unclench. “What is it? Perfume?”
“Blueberry jam perfume?” I asked, shooting him a smile. “No. It’s lotion,” I told him, suddenly thankful that I didn’t veer from the scent even after years of using it. “Is… is it a good smell?” I asked.
I don’t know what I was expecting as a response, but having him lean over and sniff my neck was, yeah, not it.
He was so close that there was no way he missed the way a small gasp escaped me. Hell, he was close enough that he might be able to hear the way my heartbeat tripped into overdrive.
“Yeah,” he said, his breath warm on my skin.
And I may have, just possibly, tilted my head to the side a bit. A silent invitation… for what, exactly?
I had no idea.
But the disappointment when he slowly moved away had me swallowing back a small whimper that worked its way up my throat.
“Well, ah, I’m glad. That, you know, it’s a good smell. Don’t want to, er, repel the customers or anything,” I babbled as I poured the coffee, wondering if the flush I felt creeping up my neck and across my cheeks was obvious or not.
It was when I was handing off said cup of coffee was when my stomach decided to let out the loudest, most embarrassing grumble ever, objecting to the entire day of surviving on nothing but coffee and the antacids I’d chewed to stave off the anxious nausea I’d been feeling as I read the reports of all of the robberies.
At Rico’s raised brow, I waved it off. “I was about to throw a frozen pizza in the microwave,” I lied as I reached for my mug.
“That’s… one depressing-ass string of words,” Rico decided after a moment.
“They’re not that bad,” I said, mostly meaning it.
“Yeah, they are,” he countered. “Wanna go get a bite?” he asked.
“Of food?” I asked, then closed my eyes for a second, hating how muddled my brain felt when he was standing so close with his scent just swirling around me, making me feel practically drunk on him.
“You bite other shit?” he asked.
“No, I just… ah…”
“Hard question?” he asked.
“No. It’s just… I’m not, you know, dressed for going out.” I was pretty sure it had been two days since I showered, now that I thought about it.
“I got time,” he said, gesturing toward the hallway.
Some part of me wanted to turn him down, to push him out the door, and get back to my research.
The other part, though, knew it was probably good for me to get out, to get out of my head. It might even help me see things more clearly when I came back to it.