Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Jared rises. “Okay. Let’s go to the cafeteria.”
All eyes are on me—or maybe Jared, because he has such an imposing figure—as we walk to the elevator and go down to the first floor where the cafeteria is located.
We walk in, and I head straight to the sandwich section. I suppose I should ask Jared if he wants anything. Thank goodness I have a trust fund. It will take lots of money to feed him.
“May I help you?” The woman behind the sandwich counter asks.
“Yes, please. I’d like a deli turkey on rye with some avocado, please.”
“Bacon on that?”
I stop myself from licking my lips. “Bacon? Of course.”
“Coming right up.” She turns to Jared. “And for you, sir?”
“Please,” I say to him. “It’s on me.”
“I’ll have the same,” he says. “Side of fries.”
“Coming right up.”
She busies herself making our sandwiches, and when they’re done, I place them on the tray. I head over to the drinks section. Of course the machines don’t stock Orange Crush, and there isn’t any in the refrigerated section either. I opt for a diet soda.
“What do you want to drink?” I ask Jared.
“Just water.” He grabs a bottle from the refrigerated section.
We check out, and then I take the tray to one of the tables. I don’t like being away from Vinnie in the waiting area, but I don’t really want to take the food up there.
“Dig in,” I say to Jared.
“Turkey’s my favorite,” he says.
I cock my head. “I’d have taken you for a beef kind of guy.”
He chuckles. “Why? Because of my size? It may interest you to know that I don’t eat red meat.”
“And you’re working for a bunch of beef ranchers? Isn’t that ironic.”
He shrugs. “I work for whoever pays me to work. I happen to believe in what I’m doing. I trust Phoenix, which means I trust your brother. If they say you need me, then you need me.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t. The fact of the matter is that an attorney was found dead in my bed at my parents’ house.
So yeah, having a bodyguard is good. Having top-notch security at my home is good.
I’ll stop complaining about it. Jared is only doing his job.
“So no red meat,” I say. “Why?”
“Believe it or not, I just don’t like the taste.”
“Really? You’re not some health nut who says it’s hard to digest?”
“Actually, if you’re talking about what you find in the grocery store, red meat is probably better for you than turkey or chicken.”
I widen my eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. I’ve done the research. So trust me, if I liked the stuff, I’d be eating it.”
“What kind of research have you done?”
“You grew up on a ranch, so you probably know about the bovine digestive system. The four stomachs.”
“Well, yeah. Of course I know that.”
“In the United States meat industry, they pump a lot of shit into the animals to get them fattened up and to keep them resistant to disease. A lot of it is detoxed out through their digestive systems before the meat gets to us. Can’t say the same for chicken, pork, or turkey.”
I press my lips together. “Wow. I never thought of it that way. I’m used to eating the beef from our own ranch, which is all grass fed, and of course we don’t inject them with any of that crap anyway.”
“I’m sure your beef is better than the grain-fed crap. But trust me. If I were interested in what was best for me, I’d be eating beef.”
I nod, putting my sandwich down on my plate. “How can you not like the flavor of beef? It’s so savory and just delicious.”
“Yet here you are eating turkey.”
I laugh lightly. “Because I’m used to grass-fed beef. The other stuff tastes like shit to me.”
He shrugs. “Maybe I’ll try your beef then.”
“You really should. You might change your tune.” I take a bite of my turkey sandwich.
Here I am talking to my beefy bodyguard about grass-fed beef. The bodyguard who’s been hired because an assassin might be sent to take me out at any moment. All while my—should I call him my boyfriend?—is navigating both his mother’s medical emergency and his family’s mafia dealings. Oh, and I’m still in recovery from a deadly disease, and my brother is a recent parolee.
My life has become surreal.
It’s been surreal for the past couple of years. For a while, I was convinced it was over.
And now that it’s not? I have to rely on this piece of white meat-fed beef across from me to keep me safe.
What is wrong with this world?
We engage in a little small talk here and there, but for the most part we eat in silence.
I’ve found that Jared is fine with silence, which is great, because so am I.
He has a job to do. To protect me.