Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
And he worked toward his goal.
So why the fuck had this past week felt so long? Why did he feel so . . . so fucking lonely?
That was ridiculous.
About as ridiculous as you driving past her house every night to make sure she was all right.
Yep. He’d been doing that too.
Well, why change his routine, right? If he was gonna be a stalker, might as well be a good one.
He needed to forget her.
Maybe you should just fuck her. Get her out of your system.
Except that didn’t feel right. And he was worried that once wouldn’t be enough. He’d want more and more until he was addicted.
His head was thumping as he sat and stared at the television he never used.
Fuck.
Why was she under his skin? It didn’t make much sense. She was about as prickly as he was. Defensive. Secretive.
She could lie with the best of them.
Something he hated.
Yet, there were times he caught glimpses of vulnerability. And when she gave a genuine smile?
Lord, it was like the clouds opening on a gray day and a ray of sunshine falling on him.
And he wasn’t a poetic, mumbo-jumbo sort of person. But that was simply the plain truth.
He liked that she didn’t give a shit what people thought of her.
Yet, he wondered if that was always true. Because he’d seen a flash of hurt on her face a few times.
He wanted to know her better. To spend more time with her.
And that scared the fuck out of him.
Maybe he needed to go to the club and find a masochist. People came from hours away to go to Saxon’s. It was safe. People could feel free to be themselves there. Something they might not be able to do in their own hometowns.
Yeah.
Maybe he’d go to the club tonight.
Right after he drove past Opal’s place and made sure everything was safe on her street.
Not that it ever wasn’t.
As far as he could tell, nothing happened on that street except for her neighbor getting into other people’s business.
He drove slowly past her house, then parked a couple of houses away on the other side of the road.
Something seemed . . . different.
Instead of being dark, there was a light on in the living room.
Could she not sleep?
He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.
Hell, it was only eleven on Saturday night. She could still be awake.
But there was no movement.
Aww. Fuck.
Ignoring the voice in his head telling him that he was being an idiot, he got out of the truck and headed toward her house.
Should he knock?
Probably not.
That didn’t stop him.
After banging on her door for a few minutes, he realized that she wasn’t going to answer.
Where the hell was she on a Saturday night? Last night, he’d gone to Dirty Delights and sat in the parking lot until Devon escorted her home.
It had eaten at him not to be the one taking her.
Why hadn’t he gotten her phone number?
Friends could call and text. So he had reason to ask, and now he was cursing himself for not doing it.
He walked back to his truck and sat in it for a moment.
A knock on his window made him startle. He glanced over to see that old shrew neighbor of Opal’s standing on the pavement.
He wound down his window. “What?”
She huffed. “Is that any way to speak, young man? Why don’t you give your elders some respect?”
He scoffed. “I’m forty-eight years old. I’m not a kid who needs to be scolded on how to speak to people. And I’ll give you respect when you earn it.”
“I’ve called the sheriff, you know,” she informed him.
“That’s nice.”
“Told him that you’re lurking around here every night, being suspicious.”
For fuck’s sake.
Why the hell wasn’t she in bed? Didn’t old people go to bed early?
“I’ll be telling him all about the stuff going on with your female friend too.”
Hmm.
“What stuff?”
If she was still harassing Opal, then he was going to have to do something about it.
He leaned through the open window and the old woman stumbled back.
He wasn’t even sorry. Because he wanted her to know he was serious about this.
“You leave Opal alone or I will make things very uncomfortable for you.”
She gasped in outrage.
Perhaps he should have felt bad. But that wasn’t something Renard felt all that often. He drove off before she could rally and reply.
Although he did turn around and drive back to make sure that she’d gotten inside safely.
He was an asshole.
But he wasn’t a complete jerk.
Fifteen minutes later, he confirmed that Opal wasn’t at Dirty Delights.
Walking out with a frown, he was grumbling to himself as he took a seat in his truck.
Fucking Devon.
He had to have her phone number, yet he wouldn’t give it to Renard.
Asshole.
If Renard discovered that she was in trouble and Devon hadn’t helped him find her . . . he was coming back to rearrange his face.