Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
The Resolve2Evolve logo was getting bigger by the second, the face of the woman at the head of the movement on a zoom-in that was downright deadly. Ducking the eye contact, Lyric changed directions in hopes of getting out of the line of fire, heading for a brightly lit construction site and a gaping group of men in orange vests and hard hats inside a fence.
But it was like the damn thing was coming after her.
In the mirrored windows of the building that was being renovated, she saw the billboard zeroing in on her in the wash of aqua light from Bathe’s facade—and also got a good snapshot of herself running for her life in the shimmering dress she loved so much. And then there were all the people from the wait line screaming while the cars hit their brakes and careened into snowbanks, lampposts, and storefronts.
The only thing she didn’t see was her savior.
Out of thin air, there was suddenly a mammoth man right on her. He grabbed her waist, spun her off her feet, and curled his massive body around her in a protective tuck—
The crash was so loud, her ears rang, and there was a whoosh! of cold air with all kinds of debris falling like weird snow.
After that? Just breathing.
Hers. His.
She took a deep breath—
“Are you okay?” the man asked in a low, deep voice. Which was oddly quiet.
Before she could respond, a glow surrounded them, like something in the universe had preordained both the near miss and their meeting—
Nah, it was just a delivery truck fishtailing while it tried not to run them over.
It was then that the man started to straighten. And straighten. And… there was also some cursing. Then again, he was holding the entire billboard over them as well as half its ugly-duckling strands of scaffolding.
With one arm.
As he released her so he could put two hands into the effort, she was transfixed. The face staring down at her from what surely was outer space was something she instantly committed to memory, from the low brows to the strong jaw to the lips that were tight with exertion. It was… a harsh, hard face. One that reflected age, without showing the passage of years by way of wrinkles or thinning hair.
Old eyes. Ancient… remote… eyes. In the visage of a man in his prime. And they bored into her, a different kind of headlights.
“Who are you,” she whispered.
What she got in return was a grunt, as he somehow picked up the load and swung the entire billboard above his head, knocking off his hard hat.
Resolve2Evolve. With the famous brunette’s face big as an SUV, her smile wide as a doorjamb.
Lyric cursed to herself. Attempted murder by the very thing she was pursuing—or being pursued by, depending on the way you looked at it.
Before she could start her thank-yous, the man walked off with the damn thing in an impossible display of strength for a human—and what do you know. The crowd that had surged forward from the wait line parted in awe for him as he headed for the side of the street. After he dumped the signage out of the way on the curb, he seemed to pause to take a look at the imagery, his head tilting to the side as if wondering, What the hell?
Then again, he was not Valentina’s core audience, for sure. And hey, his moment of confusion turned into Lyric’s advantage because she could take him in properly.
His hair was dark and fairly short, with no particular style, and his reflective bib and work boots were likewise worn from hard use, as if he pulled a lot of hours at his physical job and didn’t worry about anything other than the functionality of his wardrobe. No parka, which meant his incredible arms showed like it was August, not January, the muscles wrapping thick and corded around heavy bones.
Was that steam rising up off his skin?
Yet he’d smelled clean, and as the wind whipped around again, the subtle spice of his scent tickled into her nose and drowned out the mix of perfumes, body sprays, and hair product wafting up from all the women with the cellphones—
Marcia jumped through the garland of gawkers. “Oh, my God! You’re alive!”
For a split second, Lyric wondered who the woman was talking to. But then she was tackled in a hug, and the waterworks were ridiculous. Like they were sisters who’d been separated by a world war, and there was an Oscar nomination in play.
Then again, they did have an audience, and as the crowd let out a collective awwwww, those phones swung back up.
Ah, yes. Content.
“You almost died!” Marcia announced. “We need an ambulance! Someone call nine-one-one!”
Lyric glanced back at the man who’d saved her. He was returning to the construction site, his strides long as a mile, his bare shoulders shifting with a roll of coordinated muscle, his hands relaxed by his sides—like he hadn’t just thrown all that weight around. Across the back of his bib, the words “Wabash Construction Co., Ltd.” were an arch that had plenty of room given the size of him.