Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“I should probably get back to work. I can’t afford to lose this job.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. I let my mouth do way more talking than I ever should have.
“Kitten.” There’s an undercurrent of emotion I can’t quite decipher, but the way his head cocks to the side, deep in thought, is all I need to know. He can see right through me. The dark circles beneath my eyes that no amount of concealer, green, peach, or orange, has helped. I’ve tried them all, and it doesn’t help that with sweat, it ends up caking to my skin, making it seem like I’m peeling. Then there’s the weight I’ve lost recently. Stress is a killer, and at the first sign of worry, my appetite is completely destroyed. I’m down to eating one meal a day, forgoing the protein bars and snack packs I’ll usually toss back between jobs.
The only thing I haven’t lost is my boobs. I swear they won’t go anywhere and become more of a pain every single day. The outfits at Twisted Oak do nothing to help, either. The owner is of the mindset that while this is an upscale bar and restaurant, he wants us all to look a certain way, and it just so happens to include short and tight clothes.
“You won’t ask for help, will you?” Matthew inquires when I remain silent. A quick shake of my head is the only answer I’ll give him. “I’ll leave it be for now. Are you okay to return to work, or do you need another minute?” Apparently, a cat has my tongue because coming up with words is inherently hard. Instead, I take a steady breath, cover his wrist with my hand, and turn my head in such a way that I’m able to kiss his palm quickly. A bold move from someone who’s never seen a naked male’s form before until the other day. I’ve yet to see him without steam or condensation coating the shower wall, but what I did see is what my audiobooks describe rather vividly. I’d say the make-believe heroes have nothing on Matthew Carlisle.
“I’ll see you at the table.” He is doing all the talking, seeing as words are hard to form. I nod as an answer, and he drops his head to the crook of my neck one last time. My hand is still holding his wrist, and I can feel the blood thrumming through his veins with my thumb. I’m not the only one affected by our closeness. It seems we both go haywire when one of us is near the other.
“Matthew.” His lips graze my skin ever so slightly, causing my eyes to close and the muscles in my thighs to pulse. I try in vain to calm the riot of nerves between my legs.
“Soon, Letty.” I’m left feeling flushed and needing to dart into the restroom. I can’t necessarily splash water on my face, but at least if I run cool water along my wrists, it’ll somewhat calm me down. I don’t stay very long, and I definitely don’t look in the mirror. I already know what I’ll see looking back at me, then I’ll second-guess if I should finish my shift or not. Money is too damn tight to even contemplate the thought. Instead, I’m in and out of there in a matter of minutes, keeping my head down and excusing myself just as a customer walks in. Later tonight, when I’m alone in the comfort of my own room, I can process what’s happening between me and Matthew. I’ll even make a list of pros and cons, one of the apps in my phone besides the digital library that gets the most use. There are no names, no addresses, or anything telling, erring on the edge of caution just in case.
“Hey, drinks at the table. The appetizer is up. Do you want me to take over?” Carrie asks when I make it back to our station. She’s a lifesaver and only questions because she knows I never ask for coverage.
“Hi, thank you. I’m good now. Just needed a moment. Anytime you need me to cover you, I’ll gladly return the favor.” I look out at my area to see if any of my tables need anything while I drop off Matthew and his friend’s appetizers.
“Girl, I know. We’ve got each other’s backs.” Carrie high-fives me, puts on a genuine smile, and we get back to work.
“That we do. Thanks again.” She makes a noise that indicates it was no big deal. From there, she goes one way, and I go the other, grabbing a tray to carry the fried pickles as well as a pitcher of water. One of my tables has cleared out, which means I need to tidy up a few things before Jacob, our busser, does the rest. We have a system here at Twisted Oak when it comes to our co-workers, picking up when someone needs help, tipping out the bar and bussers. And while the owner isn’t that great due to the uniforms that are required to wear, other than that, I guess Gus isn’t too bad. It could be worse. It could always be worse.