Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“Oh, right, yeah, so…” He clears his throat and adjusts his glasses again. Swear on my nana’s grave (Sorry Nana) if he does that one more time, I’m grabbing them and snapping them in half and feeding Dustin to the mice he so dearly loves. “Arrival in another hour once we stop to grab some snacks.”
I frown. “Snacks? I don’t need snacks.”
“Me. For me.” He sighs. “Low blood sugar, plus all the stress my cousin…” He shudders. “Anyway, we’ll stop real quick, hydrate, grab some grub, then get back on the road. ETA, ninety minutes from now and then you can relax in your room, have a glass of wine, a bubble bath maybe—I do love those.”
“Yeah, I bet,” I mumble.
“Hmm?” He cups his ear.
I roll my eyes, a hundred bucks he has a stash of bath bombs with special prizes inside. “Yeah man, me too. Me too.”
“Bro.” He holds out his fist.
I bump it. I truly have no other choice at this point and right now I really need to get out of this fucking car. It pulls up to a nice-looking gas station surrounded by desert. A black SUV with blacked-out windows rolls in behind us, and I give a nod and a salute to the nameless, faceless bodyguards charged with keeping my expensive ass safe.
Perfect.
I rush out, open the door to the station, jumping slightly when it rings. It’s relatively clean, has bathrooms you don’t have to unlock to get into, and—I freeze.
They have burritos.
No, for real they have the gas station burritos, the real ones, not the ones you buy then heat up, the ones that have been cooking on a grill all day, most likely will give you food poisoning but are so crispy and delightful with just a hint of hot sauce that you just can’t say no.
It’s been years since I’ve had one.
I used to be so poor that it was my only meal a day trying to make it in LA. So there’s a certain sort of nostalgia. Plus, I’m starving despite what I told Dustin, and it sounds so good I’m ready to eat it right now.
I walk aggressively toward it, and just when I’m about to grab it, a small feminine hand reaches out to touch it.
Cheese. Beans. Burned outside.
My. Burrito.
Hey, I recognize that hand! Those nails! Those—
“You!” I don’t mean to yell it so loudly, but she did just touch my food and I’m weird about people touching my food.
Scarlett’s eyes widen. “You?” She looks around. “Is this like some sort of hidden camera show or something?” She reaches for the burrito again.
I can’t help it. I slap her hand away and I’m weirdly satisfied that the burrito is unharmed.
“Excuse me!”
“Yes.” I nod and cross my arms. “Excuse you, that’s my burrito.”
She cracks a smile. I tell myself it’s not pretty. Because it’s not. I’m not distracted. I’m solely focused on the food. “Oh um, did you put your name on it like all the good little boys do on their coats in first grade just in case they get lost or…”
I make a face. “No, I just I claimed it the minute I walked in.”
She scrunches her nose. It’s not cute. Really. “Gross, you peed on it?”
“NO!” I yell even louder. “It’s the last one. I saw it, and you weren’t even standing there it’s like you’re a ghost appearing out of nowhere. Why are you here again? Holy shit, are you stalking me? Did the turtle tux send you into a downward spiral?” I’m genuinely concerned at this point. I mean it’s one thing to make a tux for your turtle, er I guess, but to actually follow me to the remote small area that I’m about to go into? No. That’s too hard core.
“Hey, hey…” I use a gentler tone. “There, there, are you lost? Does anyone know where you are? I mean, I didn’t know it was this bad—”
Her nostrils flair, which means I stop talking immediately because I want to live. “I’ll have you know I have no gas!”
“Well, that’s a you problem.” I smirk.
“Idiot, my rental needed gas, and I’m driving to my sister’s wedding, and I’ve had a nightmare at the airport and hey, why the hell are you here? Are you stalking me?”
“Ha-ha.” I wish. “No. I’m headed to…” My eyes narrow.
Her eyes mimic mine.
“Sagecrest?” I offer.
She pales.
“Oh, shit.” And yet I still reach for the burrito.
It’s her turn to slap my hand away. I don’t even know what to do other than pretend it didn’t hurt and stare at her. “Bride or groom?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Did you even look at the invite?”
“I literally pay people to look for me.”
She shakes her head slowly and reaches for the burrito again then jerks her hand back when I glare. “It’s my sister.”