Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 90276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
I pushed the ball of money into the till, grabbed a coin then shut the cash drawer with my hip. I passed the change to Tristan who was now half-turned and looking at Deck.
Deck was about an inch taller than Tristan and more muscular, yet still lean and agile-looking. He had tatts running down both arms and a tribal design crawling up the side of his neck. His black t-shirt fit snug to the hills and valleys of his muscles, and I knew underneath that shirt was a plethora of hard abs. I had, after all, woken up in his bed after he’d hauled me out of some bar or party. Of course, Deck always crashed on the couch, but I’d seen him with his shirt off a number of times. Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t because it certainly didn’t make my life any easier.
Deck had that intimidating factor. Confident. Unyielding. And the guy hid his emotions like they were in a vault. Not knowing how to read him made him unpredictable like he was right now. He could either let Tristan walk away, or he’d make Tristan walk away and I’d lose a client and the date I needed.
“Sweetpea, you’re back.” Just looking at Deck made me want to kiss him. It took everything in me to just stand there and not leap over the counter and jump into his arms. In all the years we’d known one another, I’d never felt his lips on me. I never would, either. I knew that. I’d been told that. I’d been warned to keep it that way.
Deck had no interest in me anyway. I was a pain in his ass. If he only knew how much of a threat I was to him.
Tristan frowned and his eyes flashed with annoyance. “Boyfriend?”
I laughed. “Nope. Master.” Tristan’s brows rose and Deck’s lowered even further. “Kidding.” Well, sort of. “Badass is a friend—of sorts. You know, the kind of friend you can’t get rid of. Kick him in the ass and he just keeps coming back like a lost puppy dog.” But Deck was no puppy dog. More like a fire-breathing dragon.
Tristan pocketed his coin then curled his hand around his espresso, lifted it and took a sip like he always did. It was as if he wanted to be certain we hadn’t fucked up his order which we never did unless it was on purpose. “Interesting analogy,” he drawled. “Not sure it fits.” Yeah, it was more like Deck was the bull and I was the red cape. Tristan nodded to me. “Like the blue. My number’s on the five dollar bill.”
And success.
A week ago, I’d messed up his espresso and loaded five tablespoons of sugar in it and half milk. That sip he always took ended up in my face in a spray of hot liquid. It was the first time he’d ever really looked at me; the guy always had his eyes on his phone. I had winked at him and the annoyance in his expression disappeared and was replaced by a scowl. I had calmly wiped the coffee from my face with a napkin then reached across and dabbed the corners of his mouth. I passed him his real espresso and said, “You have sexy-as-hell eyes. Might want to use them every now and then.” At first, he just watched me intensely for a few seconds as if assessing me. I didn’t flinch or waver, merely stared back at him with a half-cocked smile. I think he liked that because slowly, a grin formed and then he chuckled.
Now, he came in every day and made eye contact and conversation.
I glanced up at Deck who didn’t look at all perturbed by Tristan’s invitation. Typical. I lowered my voice but knew Deck could still hear me. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t do relationships. One-nighters only.”
Tristan burst out laughing. “I can do that. Call me.” And then he nodded to Deck and headed for the door. I was impressed; Tristan wasn’t at all threatened by him.
I smiled, looking at Deck. Yep, he was clenching his fists and ready to throttle me. The guy was super-protective ever since my brother died. Well, two years after that actually, because Deck vanished the day he told me Connor was dead. I saw him briefly at the funeral, but he didn’t stick around.
Every day, I expected him to come back. If I heard a car door shut outside my house, my heart would start to race and I’d run to the window to see if it was him. Or if I’d get an email from an unknown address, I’d open it with my breath held hoping it was from Deck. It never was.
Then things changed and I stopped waiting, and stopped caring.
When he did finally come back, I tried to avoid him, but avoiding Deck was like pushing away a cement truck with your baby finger. It just wasn’t happening. We argued about it … okay, I argued while he merely ignored me. He said he left because he had to go back to his team overseas. I didn’t fault him for that. What I was pissed off for was he never contacted me. Then I felt stupid because why the hell would he keep in contact with his best friend’s kid sister?