Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I was half expecting the granny—god, I should use her real name, which is Scarlet—to come out here because she noticed me slip out as soon as the dancing started and was worried that I was trying to make a fast break for it, but it’s not Scarlet at all.
In fact, this person is not even female.
For a huge guy with tons of muscles who just happens to clean up real nice, Orion sure has a light step.
He clears his throat after he exits the compound. The biker club building is made of bricks. It’s basically just a big brick square that isn’t architecturally inventive on the outside so that it doesn’t draw more attention than it naturally would, what with it being a known biker hangout, but on the inside, it’s pretty nice. The guys polished it up for the wedding today and did the whole flowers, candles, lace, streamers, and balloons deal. The outside of the compound, however, is filled with bikes and tools and things like spare tires. I didn’t want to stand in there because it felt like a cage, so I opened the door and came out here.
Orion joins me. He glances to my left and raises a brow, which makes me turn my face in that direction. As I glance around, I notice what he has clearly noticed—the three overflowing red trash dumpsters.
I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s not so bad. They don’t actually smell.” I inhale deeply as if to prove a point and nearly gag when the hot, rotten garbage scent wafts up at me. “Umm, so maybe I was up in my own head a little bit and didn’t notice.” I walk ten steps away and cross my arms.
Orion walks over to stand beside me. He crosses his arms too, which makes his chest look wider than a double-decker bus. He’s lost his suit jacket somewhere. My ovaries do a double take at his black button-up shirt that isn’t fully buttoned up and his sleeves, which were rolled up to his elbows to pack a double punch, and they practically do a backflip inside me, which doesn’t feel entirely great. It makes my stomach pinch, and my nipples happen to react to all that discomfort by turning just the slightest bit hard. Orion makes black look good. He makes black pants and shiny black dress shoes look sinful. And that belt riding low on his hips? I’d like to rip it out of his belt loops and—
“Nice night,” he says awkwardly.
I tear my eyes away from him and force them back to my heels. Heels that are pinching the heck out of my feet, though I refuse to admit defeat. I didn’t bring a very big wardrobe, so I’m stuck wearing my freshly dry-cleaned white blouse and black pencil skirt again.
I feel very school librarian in it. The tight bun I stuffed my unruly hair into really completes the look. I was happy enough with it at my hotel room, but as soon as Orion knocked on the door and I nearly swooned at the mere existence of him, I doubted everything about how I’d put myself together.
I do not normally doubt how I put myself together. I am generally very happy with everything about myself and my style.
I inhale just a little, telling myself that I’m testing the waters on the trash front, but actually, it’s because I want to catch another whiff of the cedar and licorice scent that I got to inhale in the car from my hotel all the way to the biker club for the wedding.
The car might have been silent because neither of us said anything, but I still had to breathe. I couldn’t just shut that off.
“The wedding was nice. Is nice. I guess it’s still ongoing.”
“Did your grandmother send you out here to make sure I hadn’t skipped town?” My tone is a little more biting than I intended.
“She did send me out here, but she just told me to make sure you were doing okay. She said the compound isn’t pretty, there are lots of oil spills, and the trash is stinky.”
“Hmm. I have to agree with her.”
Orion scuffs the toe of his shoe into the ground, which makes the inner perfectionist in me that I’ve beaten back over the years raise her head and protest loudly about the dust collecting on that perfect polish. “She’s pretty awesome,” he says. “Granny, I mean. Even if you aren’t that impressed with me.”
“I thought the wedding was beautiful. Your brother and your sister-in-law seem very happy together. They’re a good fit. They also make nice babies. I mean…oh my god, I mean, their daughter is adorable.”
His lips twitch, and holy battered tilapia with lemon wedges, the power of that smile is enough to practically send me back ten feet to slam against the trash cans. “So, what are you doing out here? Were you going to make a break for it?”