Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I prayed there was a signal.
There wasn’t.
My god.
So, of course, that would be the moment in time that a motorcycle would pull up.
I prayed that it would just pass me.
But the sound of the motor’s roar notched down and down until it pulled up behind me.
I reluctantly turned around to see who it was, praying it was anyone else.
I, of course, was out of luck.
Odin took off his sunglasses and stared at me. “Car troubles?”
I gritted my teeth and nodded once.
His lips quirked. “Bummer.”
I crossed my arms over my chest.
“You got a jacket in the car?”
I frowned. “Yes.”
“Get it.”
I almost asked why, but I didn’t.
Instead, I got the jacket and shrugged it on.
He jerked his head toward the bike. “Get on.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but his words stopped me. “We have to be at the courthouse in an hour, and you don’t want to have a bench warrant placed on you for not showing up.”
I opened my mouth and closed it.
Even though I felt like I could probably get out of it if I explained myself, I was still in the middle of nowhere halfway down a mountain on a switchback of a road that I hadn’t seen another soul on in fifteen minutes.
With no cell phone signal.
I was not stupid.
I got on the bike.
He waited for me to get on and situated before he said, “Get closer.”
I got closer.
“Closer.”
I scooched forward an inch.
“More.”
I sighed and moved all the way forward until I was touching him with every part of me.
“Good,” he said. “You ever been on a bike before?”
“Yes,” I lied.
He snorted. “Hold on.”
I threaded my arms around his waist.
He pushed off the ground with one leg, then started forward slowly.
I tightened my hold.
“Your hair’s gonna be a mess when we get there,” he pointed out.
That was the last thing I heard before he picked up speed.
I squealed in surprise as we started to move.
I was also in awe.
I’d never in my life felt so free before.
And terrified.
It was freaky to look to the side and see straight down the mountain going at a high rate of speed.
Even scarier was the fact that I had no helmet on, and Odin was going incredibly fast.
Much faster than I ever would’ve felt safe going in my SUV.
I held on to the large man, trying not to think about how big he was.
Much bigger than Errol.
He could beat the shit out of me in seconds if he wanted to.
I shivered, the reminder of the last time that Errol had hurt me rocketing through me.
I’d once given in and gone on a date with Errol, just hoping that he would see how incompatible that we were and maybe say “oh, okay. Never mind. I don’t want to date you.”
Yet, the date that I’d gone on with him had gone swimmingly.
At least, that was how he took it.
Meanwhile, on my end, he’d taken me on a date to a seafood restaurant, and I was allergic to all freakin’ fish. I’d been terrified to get anything, even the water, because my allergy was so freakin’ bad that even a tiny spot of fish could cause me to have an allergic reaction.
That one date had gone so severely bad that I thought he’d never try to ask me out again.
I was wrong.
I’d found out rather quickly that making assumptions also made an ass out of you.
There I was thinking “he’ll get the hint” and there he was spreading rumors around town that I was now his.
No matter where I turned, there he was.
At first, I hadn’t tried super hard to keep him out of my life.
Wendy being so sick, I’d taken whatever help I could get.
But as I paid more attention to her, I paid less attention to him.
Which had pissed Errol the fuck off.
He wanted to be the center of my world.
I wanted him to give me space to breathe.
We fought.
He didn’t listen.
And eventually our fights turned physical—at least on his end.
The day that I got the message from my secret friend about a way to help Wendy in Montana had come at a perfect time. Or so I’d thought.
When I’d announced that I was moving, he’d found out and come to “talk sense into me.”
I hadn’t wanted to have “sense talked into me,” so he’d decided to beat it into me.
He’d left me on the floor in the barn since I’d refused to let him into my house and around my child, bleeding and bloody. He thought he’d gotten his version of sense knocked into me.
Unluckily for him, I’d picked myself up, dusted myself off, cleaned myself up, and moved the fuck out.
My parents and I had packed up and left the next day.
I hadn’t heard from him since.
The bike slowed, and I came out of my morose thoughts, only then realizing that I was holding on to Odin for dear life.