Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
He towers over me, his broad shoulders encased in a plain white shirt, leaving his arms on full display, showing off a range of tattoos that start at both wrists and lead up until they disappear under his shirt. I can’t help but wonder what he’s hiding under it. My fingers itch to undo the buttons and find out.
My eyes drop to his jeans and down to his boots. His vibe is very much Fuck around with me and you’ll find out. I’m not sure I want to find out. I’m too much of a scaredy-cat. His brows lift, and I realize I’m openly inspecting him from head to toe. I flush red at my open perusal, but I’m not going to apologize. This is his fault for being so damn handsome.
“I’m Caldwell.” He holds out his hand, and I take it.
“Mable.” When his hand engulfs mine, a wave of heat rolls through my body. It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before with a man. That’s not saying much, since I haven’t really had any experience when it comes to men.
“Mable, interesting name.”
“Thanks,” I croak out.
“Are you headed to the island too?” He nods toward the gate that my plane is leaving out of, where people are already lining up. I nod. “How about we sit and have that drink until we board?” I nod again. I’m suddenly incapable of forming words as I try to process the reaction I’m having to this man.
“Gotta give me some words, beautiful.”
“Yes,” I blurt out before my mouth can say no. That would be my normal response, but I’m here to step outside of my comfort zone. I can do this. If I make a fool of myself, what does it matter? I’ll never see this man again come this time next week. I have the freedom to be anyone I want. There are no preset notions.
“That’s my girl” I think he says, but I must have misheard him. The same as I did when I thought he called me beautiful.
The bartender asks us what we would like to drink as we slide up to the bar on the other side, where I can no longer see the gate. That’s okay, I don’t need to see it. It’s fine, I tell myself. It’s not like the plane is going to leave without us. Or will it?
“What are you having?” he asks me, breaking me from my thoughts. All I have ever had is wine before, so I decide to branch out, be spontaneous. That’s the point of this whole thing to begin with.
“A martini.” I have always wanted to try one but have been intimidated by them.
“What kind?” The bartender’s eyes bounce between Caldwell and me. I notice how they linger on him. I cannot blame her. The two of us don’t fit together.
“She’ll have a Cosmo,” he orders for me, and I let out a small breath of relief. Ordering a drink shouldn’t be harder than my calculus final exam. “Whiskey neat for me.” Caldwell pulls out one of the high-top bar chairs for me.
The Cosmo arrives in a glass that feels too delicate for my clumsy grip. I take a sip, and the tartness surprises me. It’s cranberry and citrus and something alcoholic that burns just enough to remind me I am doing something outside my norm.
Caldwell’s whiskey sits untouched as he watches me, his forearm resting on the bar, the tattoos shifting with the movement. I want to ask about them, what the ink means, when he got them, but the questions feel too personal, too revealing of how little I know about men like him. About men in general.
“Nervous?” he asks.
“Yes,” I admit because lying seems pointless when he’s looking at me the way he is. “I’m not good at this.”
“At what?”
“Talking to strangers. Being...” I gesture vaguely at the bar, the drink, the situation I stumbled into—or did I walk into it? I’m not quite sure. Two sides fighting to win out. “Whatever this is.”
His smile softens, becomes less performative, something almost real flickering in those dark eyes. “Then we’ll have to fix that.”
Is he hitting on me or being social? There is no way he’s hitting on me. I push my glasses up my nose.
“Tell me about yourself, Mable. Don’t leave out any of the details.” His steely gaze has me wanting to divulge every part of me. My nerves have me almost cracking a smile, but the sincerity in his eyes stops me.
“We’ll need much more time than one round of drinks for all of that,” I joke, trying to lighten the intensity.
“That can be arranged.”
For the first time in my life, I want to find out what happens when I don’t plan for it.
Chapter Two
CALDWELL
There is a chance I might not kill my brother. I was annoyed when I got the last-second call that he was getting married. It wasn’t a year from now or even a few months out. It was scheduled to happen in a few days. That is why I’m now at the airport waiting for my commercial flight. I want to throttle him, and I will, but I’m not missing his wedding.