Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
When I pull into The Frosty Mug’s parking lot, I see Travis standing at the back door with a phone to his head and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He and I need to have a word.
"Evening," I say, getting his attention. He gives me a chin nod.
"Yeah, I'll call you later." He ends the call, sliding the phone into his back pocket. "You're going to scare off the tourists from coming in."
"You're pretty packed already. What's the occupancy code for this building? I'd guess around sixty."
"Sixty-one." He drops his cigarette, stepping on it with his boot. That I can't say shit about. It's still his property, but there are other rules I can press on. "Don't be a dick."
"You let her drive your truck."
"And?"
I stare at him. He knows what I mean. Everyone in this town knows how he is about that truck. I don’t get it. It's an eyesore and useless if you ask me. But he treats it as a prized possession.
“It's Kindred. Name a person in this town that wouldn't toss her their keys." I can't argue with that. "I mean, I wouldn't at this moment."
"How many drinks has she had so far?"
"She has had two drinks here and one shot with Shelly." That's five drinks and one shot total. "Are you coming in?" He opens the back door for me.
"Yeah."
"At least you're not in uniform." I never am. "Hey." His hand comes down on my chest. It's not aggressive. Travis is a big guy, but I'm bigger. I still follow the same fitness routine I had as a Ranger. It helps to alleviate the buildup of aggression I have been experiencing lately.
"What?"
He smirks. "I might have done that shit on purpose. Thanks for bringing it back for me."
"On purpose?"
He shrugs, removing his hand. "You know I'm gay." I thought he was, but Kindred is different. I'd do all kinds of shit for her that I never would have before and not bat an eye about it. He chuckles. "You really do think she hung the moon." He shakes his head. "In you go, and don't break shit."
"I'm the sheriff."
"And I'm gay, but we still need to have this conversation for some reason."
He's got me there.
I have to shift around people to even get down the hallway. This place is busier than ever, but I know Kindred is a big part of that. It doesn’t take me a half second to see her standing on the small stage they pulled out for karaoke. She’s up there with the whole sewing group, the Knotty Knitters, singing backup completely off-tune.
Kindred’s cheeks are flushed, and she’s let her hair down from the clip she had it in. Her eye makeup is smudged in the corner of her eyes. In my fantasies, that’s precisely how she looks waking up in bed next to me. A little untamed.
Kindred might get up to her antics and be silly, but when it comes to her appearance, she is always well put together without a hair out of place. She loves all that girly shit, and now I find I’m into it too.
It’s taking all my willpower to let her finish the song because that dress she’d been hiding under her coat is new. It has to be. Red material clings tightly to her body. The skirt hits mid-thigh, letting you see every inch of those damn boots. With each sway of her hips, it lifts, revealing more of her silky legs. That dress should be illegal or at least confined to be worn only at home.
The top of the dress has a deep V showing off her tits more than I have ever seen before. Now I know why Travis told me not to break shit. The whole bar has their attention on the stage. It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to run onto that stage and block her from view.
Kindred turns her head slightly, our eyes connecting. She stops singing, and her whole face lights up, giving me a sweet smile. It hits me so hard I almost take a step back. That’s how I always want her expression to be when she spots me across the room. I can’t help but return it, giving her a nod and smile back.
I grit my teeth when her eyes drop away from me and I watch the smile drop away, her brows pulling together. I go to follow her line of sight to see what’s bothering her so I can take care of it when a hand grips my shoulder, giving a squeeze to get my attention.
“Beckett.” I suspected that she’d be here. Did Kindred invite her? I can’t be real sure. I didn’t think she was a fan, but Kindred is a softy to people even when she shouldn’t be.