Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
That was probably true. She seemed to attract self-adhesive kind of men. With Jay, she didn’t just want him to stay. She wanted something she didn’t understand. “Will you walk to me? Will you move so close that the ground wobbles, the walls between us crumble, and your thoughts rip open until we’re melding our fears and hopes as easily as we share air?”
He parted his lips and calmness drifted out with a sigh. “Just…just show me how.” His hand trembled as it combed through her hair. “Jesus, Charlee. Nothing in this world compares to the way you make me feel.”
His words bore into her heart, filling it with so many hopeful emotions, she thought it might explode.
He pressed his lips to her temple, his voice soft. “My parents died in a plane crash when I was six. It caught me off guard thinking about Roy sending you to your death in this plane.”
Not the answer she was expecting, and it turned her thoughts soft and sticky. She wanted to hug him so badly it hurt. She released her grip on the countertop behind him, wedged her arms between their bodies, and hugged herself instead. “Thank you for telling me.” She leaned against him. “Someday, I’d like to hear more about it. While I’m holding you. Okay?”
“Okay.” Color flowed back to his face, but his smile was shaky. He released her, though his fingers seemed reluctant to let go of her waist. He reclaimed her hand and let her lead him through the cabin.
The drummer, Rio, glanced up and yanked his ear buds out. “Well fuck me, you old menstruating recluse.” He rose and strutted down the aisle, tapping a beat on the ceiling with his knuckles and grinning at Jay. “The rumor is true? This is her? The Huntress?”
Huntress. A flutter awoke in her chest. That one word sucked her back to a time when all she had was Jay’s voice singing to her through her ear buds from outside her prison. She held out a hand. “I’m Charlee.”
Creases formed on Rio’s bald head as his mahogany eyes roamed every inch of her except the hand she offered. “Too fucking sexy for a handshake.” He stretched out his beefy arms. “Come here, baby.”
Tension steamed from Jay’s body as his muscles turned to stone against her back. He reached around her, stabbing a finger at Rio’s chest. “No fucking way.”
“Aw, come on—”
Gliding footsteps approached from behind the drummer’s huge frame. Wil Sima leapt over the nearest chair, knocking Rio’s arm down to get around him, and landed in a crouch on the cushion. He blew his bleached bangs out of his eyes. “Charlee. You made it.”
Jay’s hand tightened in hers, pulling her back a step. The narrow aisle didn’t allow much maneuvering, but he managed to wiggle himself between her and his bandmates.
“Did you bring your tattoo stuff?” Wil cocked his head, his boyish grin matching his lanky body and shaggy hair. “Laz is anxious to pay his debt.”
In the rear of the cabin, Laz knelt against the back of his rear-facing chair with his arms folded on the headrest. He gave her a chin lift and a grimace.
She was surprised he hadn’t found a way out of the bet. “My things didn’t make it.” Everything she owned remained in the duffle bags at her apartment. “Maybe I could have my tattoo supplies shipped.” She couldn’t afford to replace them unless Laz gave her an advance on the twenty grand.
Shaking his head, Jay stared down at her. “No need, Charlee. You and Nathan will have all new things by the time we arrive. Tony’s already arranged it.”
A fit of objections coursed through her, but her shock by how quickly he’d solved their immediate problem of no clothes led the questioning. “When did you coordinate that?”
“She made some calls before we left your apartment. I have personal assistants and shoppers on call.” His tone softened to a careful lull. “Did you leave anything behind you can’t put a price on?”
Like photos? Keepsakes? Family heirlooms? A pinch of pain twisted in her chest. The only sentimental thing she owned was her sketchbook of tattoos. She rubbed a hand over the canvas of her messenger bag where it hung at her hip and felt its shape safe inside. She shook her head.
He stroked a thumb over her cheekbone. “Are there prescriptions or anything specific you need?”
“No, but the tattoo gun…you can’t just—”
“Do you trust me?”
More than she should. She nodded.
Static crackled the overhead speakers. “This is Captain Hugh. We’re ready for departure, so if you’ll take your seats and get those seatbelts on, we’ll push off in about three minutes.”
As Jay guided Charlee to the two side-by-side chairs in the middle of the cabin, she looked for Nathan. A silver-haired woman in a black skirt suit plugged the exterior door. Nathan stood behind her, scanning the cabin. When he locked eyes with Charlee, he slid into a seat in the front row.