Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
I shook my head, hiding my smile.
It was my favorite sport, showing men what was underneath misogynistic bravado… Which was nothing much.
As much as my bedside manner and general disposition was not built for any kind of public service job, I was actually having fun playing waitress for the night. Plenty of locals were dining in that night, most of whom not only knew me by name but smiled at me like they weren’t scared of me and actually liked me. Elliot’s and my relationship was common knowledge by then, since I was often working at the bar when he was tending to it, because he was really into public displays of affection and because the town was small, and people were nosy.
Instead of being annoyed by the questions, compliments and general small talk, I … enjoyed it. It was like Invasion of the Body Snatchers, except I was turning into an almost-pleasant person because of Elliot’s influence.
As I began to walk to the kitchen, a cold breeze kissed the nape of my neck, signaling the approach of fall. For once, I wasn’t longing for summer to end.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
My step stuttered as I froze in place, clutching my notepad and pen, not turning right away.
He’d caught me unaware.
He’d caught me … happy.
Carefree.
As if he’d sensed when I might be at my most vulnerable. That was impossible. Logic dictated that he’d had me watched and had chosen that moment carefully. He’d waited.
Before turning, I took a breath, my mask of indifference in place even if I didn’t have any of my other weaponry. No expensive suit. I dressed up when I was working at the bar, but it would’ve looked comical wearing six inch heels and a designer suit while waiting tables. Plus, it’d hurt the shit out of my feet. I’d gone for jeans and a linen shirt, unbuttoned to show an expensive lace bra. Diamonds, always diamonds. My hair wasn’t in a slicked bun, it was down, wild. Free.
My makeup was much the same as it always was, although I hadn’t slathered on enough foundation to make my face look flawless and porcelain. You could faintly see the freckles on my chin, emerging after days in the sun with Elliot.
Lately, I’d consistently felt war.
Yet now that I was standing in Jasper’s shadow, my skin iced over, and the remnants of the shield I used to wear when with him was not enough to ward off the chill.
A handful of seconds… That’s all it took, my reinforcements not fully erect due to being shocked. But it was enough time for Jasper. For him to see the weakness, the gaps in my shield.
He was in the middle of the dining area, standing out like a proverbial sore thumb amidst men in linen button-downs, polo tees and flip flops. As always, he was imposing, clad in a black suit, looking like a stain against the light décor.
People were already staring, whispering. Someone like Jasper operated in the shadows. Usually, people didn’t notice him until he was about to put a knife in their neck, but there were no shadows here. And though people didn’t know exactly what he was, there was an aura about him that made you feel uncomfortable, scared. Curious, if you liked to flirt with destruction.
He didn’t seem uncomfortable under the light, under the gazes of people who didn’t know what he was. Blood pooled in my cheeks at how brazen he was being. It was a statement. He was no longer going to be confined to the shadows. I couldn’t hide from him, ignore him, nor could I hide him from the people in my life.
I grabbed him by the arm, although I really didn’t want to touch him, then I dragged him toward the patio.
Jasper was not a man who let himself be dragged anywhere or touched without his consent—doing so would be a good way to lose a hand—but he let me do both.
My heart was in my throat by the time I led us to a corner of the deck that was quiet enough to speak to him. But it was not private. I didn’t dare glance toward the bar to see if Elliot saw us. Jasper would note that, would take it for what it was, and he’d understand—if he didn’t already—what my feelings were for Elliot.
Which would put Elliot in a considerable amount of danger. Jasper had set a building on fire when he merely thought Elliot and I were just fucking. Who knew what he’d do if he ever found out I was in love with Elliot.
My throat constricted, making it difficult to breathe.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hissed at Jasper. Realizing I was still gripping his arm, I dropped it like it was charged.
His eyes dropped to my hands. His face was still blank, but there was something in his eyes that worried me. An edge, something unhinged almost. I’d caught a quick glimpse of it the day of the fire, had made note of it, but I’d been too preoccupied with concern about Elliot to think too hard about it afterward. But looking at him now, it was clear to see that he was unraveling. Clear to me, at least.