Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Time passes quickly and before I know it, she’s taking out her clutch and leaving cash on the bar. The second I see her put the money down, I stop pouring the draft beer in my hands and call out to her over the hum of loud voices.
“You need a ride?”
She smiles back at me and shakes her head no, but that happiness on her face makes it worth it.
I slide the beer down to the very end of the bar, forgetting which one of the two men sitting there ordered it, and walk over to check her out. I grab the cash and turn to go to the register, but she tells me to keep the change. She always does.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I tell her and watch as she spins in her seat.
“I bet you call all the ladies sweetheart,” she tells me playfully, but her words are a kick to my gut.
“Just you,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice chipper and not let on.
“Yeah, okay,” Grace says as she tries to get off the stool. She seems a little off balance, so I make my way around to her and I’m damn glad I did. She slips off the stool and nearly stumbles. I catch her in my arms and hold her upright as she struggles to slide her small foot back into her heel. Her hands are firm on my forearms until she’s got her balance back.
“I’m not tipsy, just these heels.” That beautiful blush rises up her chest and into her cheeks as she shakes her head. She tries to play it off, backing out of my embrace. Her lush ass hits the stool behind her, and her hands grip onto it to keep from knocking it over. I can’t help the rough chuckle from vibrating up my chest.
“You sure you don’t need a ride?” I ask Grace. I know she only had one drink. I know she doesn’t. That doesn’t change the fact that I want to give her a ride.
“No, I’m fine,” she says. There’s a small smile on her face I can tell she’s trying to fight.
“I don’t know if I believe you.” I tell her just to fuck with her. I love getting under her skin. “I wouldn’t mind taking you home.”
I give her a wink as I back away. Leaving her there, steady on her feet, I walk around the counter to get to unloading the boxes that fucking James was supposed to take care of. I look over my shoulder when she doesn’t respond and catch her staring at my ass… again. It takes her a second before she notices my eyes on her.
Her eyes widen slightly, those beautiful baby blues looking like she knows she got caught. A violent shade of red floods her cheeks as she shakes her head, pulling her hair to one side and starts walking backward.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” she says playfully. But it’s that very thought that’s keeping her away from me. A woman like her, someone put together, with her life all figured out... She doesn’t date men like me.
“Have a good night, sweetheart,” I tell her one last time.
She waves shyly as she leaves me with nothing more than a “you too”.
Yeah, I’ve made some mistakes in the past. I have a reputation, and I’m sure as shit not looking for the same things she is.
But I wouldn’t mind knocking boots with my little sweetheart.
Grace
It’s 3 p.m., and I have a thousand things to do at work in only two hours. It’s not going to happen. That’s the bottom line. I push myself back from my desk in my rolling chair and sigh while looking around my cubicle. It’s littered with coffee mugs with motivational phrases, like, ‘I drink coffee and I get shit done’, notepads that have to do lists on them and pens. There are pens everywhere. In coffee cups, on top of to do lists and in the top drawer. Why? Because everyone takes my pens. Just like my mugs, they have cute things on them. My most recent set: keep your hands off my pens. I bought a six pack, I’m already down to four… I think… unless one is tucked in my purse or a drawer.
I’m in the advertising design department here at L. J. Scott & Co, which supposedly fulfills my need to create. The stack of ads, printed out on thick photography paper, at my right hand can attest to that.
I went to Rhode Island School of Design for marketing, with a minor in graphic design not realizing how much both subjects would challenge my creativity. I freaking love it. Eventually, I settled in at this graphic design job, choosing it over the other two offers because I like the work done here. It’s as simple as that. Day in and day out I get a different task and a different market to tap into.