Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Instead, I’d lifted one of her curls, and rubbed the silky tress between my fingers.
“I hope the wind never blows where you’re going, Red. Thank you for last night. It was a gift I can never repay.”
Then I walked out of her life and headed back to mine. She was starting down a new road, and I sincerely hoped she found what she was looking for.
I shut the hood, then backed out the car, leaving the keys under the seat. John would be around to pick it up later, and I would get the new kid to call him for payment next week. My passion was motorcycle restorations, but the bread and butter of the shop was the mechanical work. I needed to do one in order to pursue the love of the other. I grimaced as I thought of how many people needed to be called. My bank account was getting pretty low, yet I couldn’t bring myself to contact people and get payment. That meant talking. Which led to questions and the offer of sympathy or outrage on my behalf. Neither of which I wanted. I simply didn’t want to talk about it.
I headed inside, throwing off my clothes to have a shower. I hesitated as my shirt tore over my head, and I sniffed the material. I could smell her.
Light, citrusy, and lovely. Her scent was seeped into my shirt. For some reason, I was loath to toss it in the hamper, then with a muffled curse, I did. I stepped in the shower, almost growling when the heat lifted her scent to my nose again. I grabbed the soap and scrubbed.
I had to stop thinking about her. It was a one-night stand, and it was over. I needed to get my head back in the game, pick up the kid, and move ahead.
I ignored the little ache in my chest as I thought about never seeing Red again. It was stupid, and the bottom line was, it didn’t matter. She was gone and the chances of me ever seeing her again, slim.
I pulled up in front of the general store about ten minutes late. Sitting on the bench was a lanky kid who looked much younger than twenty-five. He lazed back on the bench, his sunglasses covering his face, feet crossed at the ankles, beat-up sneakers on his feet. He looked relaxed with his arms crossed behind his head. Beside him sat a wild, flower-covered suitcase, and I frowned. Had I hired some runaway? He barely looked old enough to be out of school. Had he lied on his resume? I looked again, wondering why the suitcase looked vaguely familiar. Maybe my mother had had one like it at one time.
I waited a moment, then tapped the gas, gunning the engine. He didn’t stir or change his position, and I muttered under my breath. He was going to be a lazy one.
Angry, I got out of the truck and slammed the door. I stalked over to him, standing by the bench. I cleared my throat, noticing too late he had earbuds in and couldn’t hear me.
I hunched down and plucked out a bud. He sat up, startled. “What the hell, man?”
I bent close. “We’re going to be talking about this.”
He frowned, glancing around. “What?”
“Get your stuff, and let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, mister. And that’s not my stuff. I’m just watching it.”
I felt a small sliver of relief flow through me, even as a voice spoke up behind me. A voice I knew far too well, for all the wrong reasons.
“It’s mine.”
I spun on my heel, meeting the wide green eyes of Charlynn.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped. “Did you follow me earlier?”
“Me?” she responded. “I’m here for my job.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Your job?”
The owner of the general store came out, holding up a slip of paper. “Miss, you left this!” She approached and handed Charlynn something and lifted a hand in greeting. “Maxx.”
I tilted my chin at her in greeting, and Charlynn gasped. “You-you’re Maxx?”
I crossed my arms. “I am.”
Her wide eyes became huge. She laid a hand over her throat, her stare confused. “But last night, they called you Reynolds.”
“My name is Maxx Reynolds.” A nagging thought entered my head. “Charlynn? Is that your real name?”
“Yes.” She paused and swallowed. “But I go by Charly.”
I blinked. Looked at the kid on the bench who was watching us as if we were on some sort of reality show. He had pulled off his glasses, and his gaze was filled with curiosity.
I was dumbstruck. Charlynn was Charly. I had hired Charly and slept with Charlynn.
They were the same person.
I spun on my heel and headed to my truck.
I was out of there.
CHARLY
Maxx strode to his truck, anger rolling off of him. I was taken aback when I realized the man I slept with last night and my new boss were one and the same. His reaction was far more vehement.