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)
Where it had sat for the last hour without him taking a sip.
Devon, the owner of Dirty Delights, had come over to check on him a few times.
Nosy asshole.
“Yeah, of everyone in this town, I figured you were the one who would get it. It’s why I came over when I saw you staring at that glass of rum that you’ve got no intentions of drinking.”
“You don’t think I will?”
“How long have you been sober?” she asked.
He sighed. Christ save him from women who saw too much. “Five years.”
“So you’re not going to drink that. Because you don’t want to unravel those hard-earned years of sobriety.”
“I don’t? Maybe that’s exactly what I want. To drown myself in alcohol.”
“Oh, darlin’, if that’s what you wanted, you’d already be doing it.”
“I don’t need your sympathy.”
Opal held up her hands. Her nails were long and painted a bright red that matched her lipstick. “I wasn’t offering it. Wouldn’t dare.”
He eyed her.
“Just figured I’d come sit over here for a few minutes until I’m on.”
“On?” He glanced around again. “What are you doing here on your own? Shouldn’t you be home in bed, asleep?”
Her lips twitched. “Remember, I’m not a child. And I can decide for myself when I need to sleep. I’m singing. And yes, I came here all by myself.”
He didn’t like that at all.
“You drove? Do you have a car? Did someone walk you in? Will they walk you back out?”
She stood and patted his arm. “Go home. Get some rest yourself.” She stood and turned toward the small stage area down the other end of the bar.
Damn.
His mouth went dry as he took in that pert ass in her tight jeans. They were molded to her body, and he couldn’t help but think about peeling her out of them.
Her hips swayed as she headed to the stage and picked up a guitar.
Was she going to play the guitar? Sing?
He’d come a few times to listen to Lara perform, but he hadn’t been here in months.
“She’s really good.” He glanced over as Devon sat in the same chair Opal had just been in.
“Jesus,” he sighed. “Why does everyone think I want to talk?”
“Must be your cheerful personality,” Devon replied. “Just draws people in.”
“I’ll have to work on changing that.”
“You do that.” Devon nodded at Opal as she settled herself on a chair and adjusted the microphone. “Opal has talent. Real talent. She came in and asked if I minded her singing here once in a while. Mind? Fuck. I wish I could have her here every night.”
“It’s not safe for her to come out at this time of night. Who the hell is making sure she gets home safe?” he demanded.
“I know how to take care of my people,” Devon replied defensively. “I give her a ride home each night.”
So she waited around until Devon was ready to leave? Nope. He didn’t like that.
“Which nights does she come in?” Renard asked.
“Most Fridays. Why?”
“No reason.”
Devon stood with a sigh and nodded at the glass. “You gonna drink that?”
“Nope,” he replied.
“You want me to take it away?”
“Nope.”
“You’re punishing yourself by staring at it and not having it?” Devon asked.
“It’s just a reminder,” he said.
Of how far he’d come.
And how far he might fall if he let go.
So he’d stay the course, hold on tight to the top of the cliff and hope like fuck that he didn’t freefall.
The time might come where he had to let go. But it would be best for everyone if that was short and sharp.
Opal finished singing her final song, letting the last note linger in the air.
There weren’t many people left in the bar, but the few who remained clapped.
She preferred it this way. She needed to sing; it was an ache inside her. As necessary as breathing.
But what she didn’t want was a huge audience. She didn’t want the attention.
Might seem strange considering the way she dressed and acted.
But flying under the radar was what she really needed to do. So she balanced her need to sing for people with her desire to stay hidden.
Hidden from the past.
Something she wished she could forget.
It was impossible to escape the past when it was living inside you.
That was something he knew.
Renard.
She knew someone fighting inner demons when she saw them.
And that was a man who had some demons.
The way he’d stared at that glass of rum . . . like it was his worst nightmare and yet held the answers to life’s biggest questions.
Yeah.
She understood that all too well.
There had been a time when she’d tried to quiet the screaming in her mind with all sorts of things.
Drugs.
Drink.
Sex.
None of it had worked. The only time she’d come close was when she submitted. But it was nearly impossible for her to find a partner who she trusted enough to let go with. Still, she kept going back to Saxon’s in the hope that someone would be able to step up.