Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Kicking off my dusty boots at the door, I walk past the open-concept living room and kitchen toward my bedroom and straight to my shower. Tossing my shirt into the laundry basket, I watch it sit on the top before my jeans join it. After my shower, I fire up the grill, making a steak and a baked potato. Then I get dressed in another pair of jeans and a light brown T-shirt and run my hands through my hair. “You need to get a haircut,” I tell my reflection as I try to tame the top of it.
I’m slipping on my new boots when a horn honks for me to get outside. I walk out, seeing Sammy and Bobby waiting for me. “Boys,” I greet them, getting into the back of the cab as we pick up Hector and Elijah. The five of us walk into Thatcher’s and take a table on the side.
A couple more guys join us by the time the first round has come. I’m sitting with the glass of whiskey in my hand when I look over at the door. Everything in me stops except the blood flowing down south. She walks in with Caleb at her side, but my eyes are on her, always on her. She wears a white dress with sheer long sleeves and little blue flowers all over it. The hem of the dress hits her mid-thigh, while the neck plunges down lower than it should be, showing her perfect silky skin. “Fuck,” Bobby says from beside me, “she cleans up good.” I turn to look at him, my eyes for sure in slits, and he holds up his hands. “I’m just saying she’s pretty.”
“You work with her,” I point out. “Don’t shit where you eat.”
He takes a sip of his whiskey when I hear Sammy call her over. “Lilah.” She turns toward us, and I see her eyes taking us all in. She smiles and says something to Caleb before they make their way through the crowd to us.
“Hey, guys,” she says once she gets close enough. I see the little ruffles on the dress and also see light pink flowers between the blue ones. “I want to say I’m shocked to see you guys here.”
“Are you guys staying long?” Sammy asks. “We can move over and make a place.”
“No, that’s okay,” she replies, looking up at Caleb. “We’re going to get our own table.” The words hit my stomach like poison when she turns toward him. “Get a table. I’m going to be right back.”
“Will do,” he agrees. She turns and walks away, and I catch the back of her dress or, better yet, the lack of the back of her dress. Her shoulders are covered, and the material looks like it’s crossed over, but it’s all open until the base of her back shows you that she isn’t wearing a bra. My hand grips my glass so tight it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered.
“Have a good night, boys,” Caleb says before turning and finding them a table. A table that is right in my line of sight. This is what I get, I think as I take another sip of the whiskey.
“He’s a good guy,” Sammy says. “He likes her a lot.” I turn my eyes to him as I try not to listen to him talking about Lilah and Caleb. I also try not to see her walk back to the table, but I fail miserably as I see her pull out the chair and sit down. She crosses her legs, showing you her legs with little strappy heels on her feet. She looks better in boots, I think to myself as my head laughs. She’d look better with her feet bare and in your bed. I shake my head to make the vision of her in my house, naked and waiting for me, leave. Instead, I finish the whiskey in my glass, pushing the desire down and burying it where it’s supposed to be.
I finish and try to ignore everything that is Lilah. Instead, I have two more whiskeys and then order a third when I see Caleb get up and hold out his hand for her to dance with him. There isn’t even a dance floor in the bar, but a couple of people are standing by their tables, moving to the soft beat of the music. The server puts the third glass in front of me, and instead of nursing it and making it last, I finish it in two gulps. I stupidly turn my head and watch her do some two-step dance with Caleb, teaching him the moves, all the while he has his hands on her hips. I think about breaking every finger he has, snapping them like twigs, in two or three pieces. “I’m going to get going,” I declare, getting up, not wanting to watch anymore. “Who else is leaving?”