Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 94716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Yeah? Well, you suck.” I said petulantly.
My eyes wandered back to her plate of food, and I stared at them for a few heart-wrenching seconds before movement in the seat beside me caught my attention. I turned and followed the broad muscles of the man in a camo uniform. Immediately, I disregarded him. Men who were hot normally ignored me, so why waste my time by looking at him. Something about my red curly hair usually turned them off. It would only dent my ego.
Turning back to my sister, I asked, “Are you done with those?”
She was staring at the man beside me, but turned her eyes to mine at my question. “Yeah, sure.”
I dug in, totally ignoring the fact that she was quieter than usual.
“What’s your malfunction?” I asked, around a bite of cheesy goodness.
“How are you not fat?” She asked resentfully.
“I run so I can eat like this. When my pants start getting tight, I start running more. When they fit again, I stop.” I said simply.
A chuckle from beside me had me stiffening, but I did my best to ignore the fact that the shit head beside me was laughing at my fatness.
“Jackopa, what are you doing here?” Mr. Stoker asked excitedly, as he sidled up to the bar directly in front of the mystery military man,
“Dad, you know I don’t like being called that. You know it, yet you still fucking do it.” The man, Jackopa, growled.
His voice was deep and smooth. It sent shivers down my spine.
“Son, that’s a good, strong name. My granddaddy gave it to you. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Mr. Stoker chided.
“Yeah, well tell that to everybody else. They think it’s weird,” He muttered under his breath. “Can you get me some of the nachos? They’re looking mighty delicious.”
I sucked my fingers clean of cheese and sour cream just as he said that, and accidentally inhaled instead of swallowing. Choking and sputtering, I couldn’t stand it anymore and turned to survey the man.
He was flipping gorgeous. He had black hair, almost blue. Although, the Miller Lite beer sign directly above his head could account for the blue, if I thought about it too hard. It was buzzed tightly to his scalp, just long enough that you could tell the color, but nothing else. His eyelashes were dark, as well as his eyes. They were a deep green; so green they were almost black. His face was utterly beautiful. Not one single blemish marred his beautiful face.
Clearly, he had some Native American background if his sharp features had anything to say about it.
His mouth was kicked up to the right, revealing straight white teeth. His body was beautiful. Strong thick arms covered by the desert camo you see on off duty military personnel. The Army patch on his chest told me what branch he belonged to, but I never would’ve guessed otherwise.
I turned back around as I saw him grin wide at my blatant observation of his body. Good thing I hadn’t looked at his package like my eyes wanted to do; I would’ve never heard the end of it then.
Wiping my hand on the towel, I stood and pulled my t-shirt down, covering my stomach entirely. It wouldn’t do if my skin was showing. I didn’t want to be known for dressing like a slut puppy in high school at our twenty-year reunion, and I always made sure to dress conservatively. Today, I was dressed extra special in a white pencil skirt that came just below my knees and a fitted top. My one downfall, however, were my Chuck’s. At least they were new and didn’t have any dirt on them.
I was secretly happy I wasn’t wearing my usual uniform of jeans and a t-shirt. I didn’t want Jackopa thinking I was a slouch or anything.
“Alright, sis. I have to run by the library to register for classes at TU. The deadline is eight tonight, but the library closes soon. I need to hustle. I might not make it as it is.” I said before downing the glass of Coke that Mr. Stoker had just handed me.
“My son can give you a ride, Winter.” Mr. Stoker said, glancing out the door at the setting sun.
“That’s not necessary, Mr. Stoker. It isn’t but another four blocks. That’s why I wore my Chucks; I knew I’d be walking.” I explained nervously.
“Nonsense, he isn’t doing anything for a while. The nachos will take at least thirty minutes to make since we used the last batch of chicken on yours. He doesn’t mind.” Mr. Stoker said with all seriousness.
Well, that was that. I wasn’t getting out of this no matter what. The man was an iron bar when it came to getting his own way. He wouldn’t be swayed when his mind was made up, and, clearly, it was made up.
“O-okay.” I said as I turned to Jackopa.
He held his arm out for me in a courteous gesture, and I hooked my arm with his cautiously.
He led me outside into the cooling Texas air, and I shivered as he walked me up to a big ass mother of a motorcycle. Chain served as the handlebars, a skull was mounted in between the bars; I had to say I loved it. It suited him to a T, but there was no way on God’s green earth I was getting on that beast in this skirt.
“Umm, I think I’ll walk. You can walk me, but there won’t be any riding today. Not in this skirt. It’d probably pop a seam.” I explained to his jaw.
I wouldn’t be looking him in the eyes. I didn’t want to get lost in them as I did the first time.
“Okay.” He said without argument.
We started walking at quite a brisk pace. Me ignoring him, and him watching me ignore him.
“What are you doing later?” He asked, taking my hand and helping me over a water puddle on the ground.
He didn’t let it go after I was over it, though. My hand stayed in his for the entire walk to the library. I didn’t argue, because in all honesty, it felt nice.