Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I’m not prepared to let that happen.
"Do you believe that story about her friend?" I ask.
Bryce shrugs, running his fingers through his slicked back hair. "Why would she lie about something like that?"
"I don’t know. We don’t really know her. People can have strange motivations."
Thomas shakes his head, pressing his lips together. "Dawn’s not like that, man. You need to spend some time with her, and you’ll see. She’s as real as it gets."
I study my friend who is known for his soft heart and wonder if he’s right or if he’s just been duped. Do I trust his instincts?
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I need to get Dawn on her own somehow so I can find out the truth. There is too much at stake to leave this situation tumbling like a boulder down the side of a hill.
"I’m going to handle the wholesale run today," I say, addressing Lachlan. "I’ll take Dawn."
"Sounds like a plan," he says, nodding. When he holds my eye contact a little longer than usual, I know he’s harboring some of the same reservations as me. At least this way, I can confirm if I’m right to be worried or not.
"Coming," Dawn calls through the door as I wait for her to open up. There’s music playing loudly inside, and when she finally flings the door open, she’s out of breath. "Hey, Cooper."
"Hey. What are you doing?" I peer into her room, wondering if I missed one of my friends sneaking in for round two. The room’s empty.
"I was dancing," she says.
"Dancing?"
"Yeah. Don’t you ever dance around your room?"
I look down at myself as if to say, do I look like a man who’d dance alone? I hope I don’t. These cargo shorts have big pockets at the side, like combat trousers, and my simple black t-shirt is as masculine as it gets.
"No," I say simply, watching her eyes dance with laughter at my response.
"Well, maybe you should. You know, to lighten up."
"Oh, I’m light," I say, grabbing her hand and whirling her into my arms. I dance her into her room, showing her that I have moves that I reserve for when there’s a beautiful woman around. "So light I’m practically drifting away. Want to come with me?"
"Where?" she asks, breathless, gazing up at me with wide eyes as though she’s seeing me for the first time.
"The wholesaler."
Dawn blinks, surprised, and then bursts into laughter. "That was not what I was expecting you to say."
"Well, I may be light, but I’m also a working man." I stop dancing and allow Dawn to take one step back. Her cheeks are flushed, and her grass-green eyes sparkle with contained amusement.
"Mitchell didn’t mention this riveting part of the job." She smoothes her hair like she’s worried our dancing disturbed it, and my arm instinctively raises to help her with the task. Before I register how forward it is, I tuck a stray wave behind her pretty ear. For the first time, I notice the little diamond stars in each lobe and the pretty silver heart she has at her neck. Dainty jewelry for a girl who’s bold and feisty. I drop my hand, suddenly self-conscious.
"Yeah, well. Mitchell would have said anything to get you to work here."
"Really?"
"Really. You didn’t realize he was smitten after you doused him with beer?"
"It’s not part of my usual mating ritual," she snorts. "So, what does a trip to the wholesaler involve?"
I shove my hands into my pockets and twist my mouth into a suppressed smile. "It involves sitting next to me in the ute and holding the list while I heft the boxes, and maybe I’ll treat you to something small on the way back."
"Something small." She smirks, gazing down at my crotch. "You’re selling yourself a little short, excuse the pun."
"I meant ice cream, but if you’re looking for something else, I can assure you I have a big scoop."
She grins broadly, biting her bottom lip. "Let’s see how things go, shall we?"
Dawn grabs her purse and hooks it across her body, and we make our way to where the Ute is parked, ready for my least favorite journey of the week. She jumps in like we’ve been riding together for years and grabs some chewing gum from the center pocket.
"So, how come you get the wholesaler job?"
I shrug and then pull the belt across my body. "We’re on a rotating schedule. You’re just lucky it’s my turn."
"Very lucky. How far is the wholesaler?"
"Ten minutes. Just enough time for us to get better acquainted."
"Ten minutes. How about we play twenty questions?"
I turn the key, and the ute rumbles to life. "That’s a question every thirty seconds!" I haven’t played that game in years. The last time, I ended up having to answer questions that threw a wedge between me and the girl I liked. Truth can sometimes be the death of romance.