Twisted Collide – Saints of Redville Read Online Ava Harrison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary, Forbidden, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
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Fuck. I’m not ready for the night to end, but I’m also not in the place to pursue her if she says she’s going to bed.

I don’t have that luxury.

She looks innocent right now. Her previous bravado fading away to uncertainty. Although we have been tiptoeing around the idea of hooking up, this is the moment of truth, and she’s suddenly unsure.

“Cue?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Your silence is deafening.” She chuckles awkwardly.

So damn cute.

“This is clearly where the night ends.” She offers me a small smile.

“Yeah.” I lift my arm and signal for the bartender. “Close out our tab, please.”

The girl beside me sits up straight and stops chewing on her lip. She puffs up her chest, pushing forward the confidence from before. “You don’t have to buy my drinks,” she declares.

“I do,” I respond, not leaving any room for rebuttal. “For a night of mystery.”

At my tone, she smiles. “Thank you. It was nice meeting you.”

I nod my head. “See you around,” I respond as I wait for the bill.

I watch from the corner of my eye as she stands. I’m not exactly sure where she’s off to, but I know I’ve made the right decision.

I can’t afford to be reckless in my life. I need to concentrate on my career, making sure Molly is okay, and that’s it. It’s for the best.

A girl like that, well, she would’ve been a distraction. An amazing time for the night, but that’s all it could ever be.

Nope, it’s better this way.

After about five minutes, my tab is settled, and I stand from my chair and head to the door. I place my wallet in my back pocket, and when I look up, I see a familiar figure swiftly moving toward the back entrance.

It’s her.

Where is she going?

I keep my eyes on her, intrigued by this mysterious girl. She looks left and right before she pushes the door open. It feels so clandestine.

Interesting.

Wherever she’s going, she doesn’t want anyone to see her.

What’s this little hellfire up to?

From the brief time I spent with her, I already clocked her as reckless and bad news, but still, despite this knowledge, I can’t help but follow her. I’d love to say it’s simply curiosity, but in truth, my protective nature rushes to the surface. I might not know this girl, but if she were Molly, there would be no way I’d let her walk off outside by herself at this time of night.

Especially when I know she’s itching for an adventure.

The warm summer air slaps me in the face as I step outside. I take a moment to look up, appreciating the stars twinkling overhead. That’s not something you see in the city. The full moon shines brightly, providing the minimal light out here tonight.

This property is gorgeous. One of a kind.

I’m sure half of my team is in rare form already, itching to Uber back to the city to continue the night at one of the local clubs. That’s where I differ from my friends. I want quiet, but not until I uncover where she’s off to and make sure she arrives safely to wherever she’s headed.

Step by step, I follow her. I’m practically right beside her, but she doesn’t even realize it, which is a tad concerning. She just continues walking on along without a care in the world. With each move she makes, something in her right arm reflects the light.

What is that?

A bottle?

Did she really grab a bottle and go outside to keep drinking? I shake my head, completely mystified by this woman.

It is a nice night, so I guess anything is possible.

“I know you’re following me.” Her soft voice cuts through the air. It makes me smile because, despite the low sound, there’s no denying her sarcasm.

Even tipsy, she’s giving hell.

I like it.

“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret.”

“Well, that’s good ’cause you were doing a horrible job of blending in.”

I chuckle, my chest shaking in effect. “What are you doing out here?”

“I wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet.” One slim shoulder lifts before she starts to walk. Each step is slow and deliberate. She moves forward in a straight line and then back, then she moves a few inches and does it again. It’s almost like she’s doing it on purpose. Like she’s making a pattern.

“Why are you walking like that?”

Better question—why do you care?

Warning bells go off in my head. I don’t do social attachments. I don’t do anything but sleep, eat, and skate. And I certainly don’t ask pretty girls why they do the things they do when I should be in my room, keeping my head down. Like always.

She continues with her odd steps, unaware of the war I’ve just waged with myself.

“Walking like what?” Her balance slips as she glances down at her feet. “Oh. That. I’m tracing the shape.”


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