Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
I grunt as something occurs to me. Something that flips my stomach over like a pancake. “Is she there?”
“If by ‘she’ you mean Jenna Fairchild, yes. She’s definitely here.” He whistles long and low. “Never seen anything like her in my life. I didn’t believe in angels until tonight, I tell ya. The local boys are foaming at the mouth.”
My pulse is hammering violently in my neck. “Is someone hitting on her?
“The LA visitors just arrived a few minutes ago, but I reckon it’s only a matter of time before one of the locals shoots their shot with her.” He clucks his tongue. “Poor girl is crammed up in the corner, holding a Diet Coke like a weapon. It’s like she knows they’re all about to descend on her like wolves.”
I come very close to putting my fist through the wall.
In fact, I would have, if my daughter wasn’t in the next room.
Of course Jenna is terrified. She’s in a strange place with people who don’t have her best interest in mind, unless it makes them money. Why are they bringing her to a bar when she’s apparently uncomfortable being in one?
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, Zander. Don’t let anyone approach her.”
“What? How the hell am I going to do that?”
“Tell them Penn Holland said she’s off fucking limits.”
Again, he whistles. “That ought to put the fear of God into them.”
Nice to know my reputation around here carries the weight it should. “Good.”
“You aren’t…interested in this girl, are you, Penn? She’s half your damn age.”
As if I need reminding.
I like that you’re older.
Her confession from this afternoon has been whispering itself through my mind for hours. How she’d said it with that little pout, nudging the new, dangerous instinct inside of me. She wants a Daddy. She needs one as we speak. And I can’t seem to stop myself from being that for her. Just for now. Just for tonight.
I won’t let myself take it any further than that.
Hanging up on Zander without answering, I dial Raleen, Erin’s sometimes babysitter who lives closer to town. Thankfully, she answers right away. “Raleen? Mind if I drop Erin and a pepperoni pizza off for a few hours? I’ve got something to handle in town.”
CHAPTER 5
Jenna
I’m trying to keep a smile on my face because yeah, people are not being very covert in snapping pictures of me on their phones. My back is to the wall and my Diet Coke is sweating in my hand, a lot like me. The music is too loud, the bar is too packed. My manager, agent and the entire crew are pissed off at me for not bending to their will today, so they’re pointedly ignoring me. Loneliness weighs me down. So far down.
There is a group of men on the other side of the bar making no mystery of their interest. One of them looks directly at me now and adjusts his crotch, and my scalp prickles with apprehension. How many times can I be put into these kinds of situations before something irreversibly bad happens? At least when I’m in Los Angeles, I have bodyguards, but they didn’t come on this trip. Being in a remote mountain town, Dustin didn’t think they would be necessary.
I should go back to my trailer.
No.
Someone is going to follow me.
I feel it in my bones…and those bones start to shake.
I want to go home.
You don’t have a home.
At least, not a place that truly feels like one.
I close my eyes and remember the safety and strength of Penn’s arms around me, wrapping me in flannel and holding me to his massive chest. That felt like home.
But I guess I was wrong.
When I open my eyes again, Crotch Grabber has broken from the pack and is cutting through the crowded bar like a shark, veering in my direction. I pray that my manager notices what's happening and intercepts the guy, but he's already had three drinks and isn’t cognizant of his surroundings. I press my back harder into the wall, my heart cramming into my throat as he gets closer—
“Hey,” snaps the bartender to my left. “Penn Holland said she’s off limits.”
Crotch Grabber stops in his tracks, some of the color draining from his face. “Ah, hell. Penn said that?”
“Did I stutter, boy?”
A sob of relief wells in my throat as my pursuer turns around and slinks back to his group of friends. The bartender nods at me warmly and walks away. And I practically break into a tap-dancing number, my chest squeezing like a fist around a soaked sponge.
Penn Holland said she’s off limits.
A sound leaves my mouth that I can only describe as a giggle-gasp, my hands pressing to my stomach to calm the butterflies. He made me off limits. He thought about me. He guards me better in his absence than any of these people on my payroll.