Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
I’d, of course, felt freakin’ horrible.
“Nothing,” I lied. “And the cheese grater?” I winced. “When I was in college, I was dancing drunk on a table with a chandelier made of metal stuff. Part of it had holes in it that gave this decorative effect on the floor beneath it. When I was dancing, I thought it’d be a wonderful thing to start jumping…you can see where this is going.”
He blinked innocently. “No, I can’t. Please finish.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “I started jumping up and down, and one of those times I guess I did it high enough that I reached the chandelier. I scraped off the top of my head, and the very edge of my forehead.”
He frowned. “Your hair seems to cover the spots just fine.”
I shifted my bangs—that I grew out specifically to hide the lovely designs on my forehead—and showed him my scars.
He whistled between his teeth. “Groovy scar.”
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
“Thank you for turning it down,” I said, making my way to stand.
He helped me to my feet and looked down at me.
That was when I realized that not only was he now shirtless, he was also pantless.
“You’re…” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re nearly naked.”
He nodded.
“I pressed the pant leg against your scalp to stop the bleeding.” He paused. “I didn’t have anything else to use.”
That was when I realized that I was still clutching his pants in my hands.
I offered them to him, but the moment I did, I felt a fresh wave of blood ooze down my forehead.
“Dangit,” I grumbled, putting it back. “Is it bad?”
He shrugged. “It’ll stop eventually. You just took the top layer of skin off the side of your forehead.
Wonderful. Just freakin’ great. Perfect.
“I have a date today,” I moaned. “He’s going to love seeing this.”
Something changed in his complexion, and I blinked, trying to ascertain what it was. The moment that I did, he smoothed out his features into an impenetrable stare.
“Who’s the date with?” he questioned.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a blind date set up by Krisney. Since she’s back, she’s determined to have me dating again.”
“Again?” he questioned. “You mean you stopped at one point?”
I nodded. “I did. At first, I dated a few men from the church, but since they go there, my dad is always in the back of their minds. They treat me like I’m a kid, or a woman who’s a preacher’s daughter, then wonder why I don’t enjoy the date.”
He started to chuckle, and it was then I realized that I’d been staring at his abs, which jumped when he laughed. Which were mighty close to the boxer briefs he was wearing. Which covered his impressive…
I looked away again, my mind really starting to run.
Oh, God. He had a big cock. He was also not hard.
What would it look like if he…I shut down those thoughts again.
“You’re dating the wrong guys then,” he pointed out. “If you were dating the right ones, they wouldn’t give a fuck who your father was. They’d be caring about who you were.”
I smiled, and the move made my forehead throb, which reminded me that I was standing in the middle of the man’s kitchen—which might I add was going to be fantastic when he was done—with his pants pressed to my forehead.
I dropped the pants from my head and handed them back.
When I felt the drop start, I brought the tail of my shirt up, thankful that I was wearing a stretchy one, and pressed it to my head.
“I’ll see you around, Tate.”
He watched me go, not stopping me this time, and I found myself disappointed.
I wanted him to ask me to stay, but even I knew how stupid that would be.
I was the daughter of a man who hated his guts, and he was the man who hated my father.
I wasn’t fond of my father, either, but he was still my father.
That would never change.
And even if it did, which I knew it wouldn’t, Tate would never go for a girl like me.
Chapter 9
Here’s a condom. I thought since you were acting like a dick, you might want to dress like one.
-Tate to Hennessy’s date
Tate
It was purely coincidental that we ended up at the same place to eat twice that week.
It also saved her life.
This time I was with Baylor instead of Ariya.
Hennessy most definitely wasn’t with Krisney.
“Aren’t you tired of tacos yet?” Baylor asked.
I shook my head. “Not really.”
I fucking loved the tacos here. They also had a hamburger for the days that someone wasn’t feeling tacos. It was made out of buffalo, however, and it took some getting used to.
I loved it now, though.
I was eating three tacos, as well as the burger, and inhaling the chips and queso that we’d gotten when she walked in with him.