Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I should’ve.
But I didn’t.
When my alarm goes off, I let out a groan and pat over the mattress until I find my phone. I silence the damn thing, and wishing I could stay in bed, I drag myself out from under the covers.
Another day in paradise.
Not.
Still half asleep, I get ready for work, and when I push my bicycle out onto the porch, the sun is too bright, making me squint.
I lock the door behind me and steer my bicycle to the driveway, where I climb on and reluctantly pedal to work.
I get to the gas station in the nick of time and quickly rest my bicycle against the wall.
As I rush into the store, Mr. Cahoon passes by me and says, “See you tomorrow.”
Glancing around, I notice there aren’t any boxes for me to unpack, and taking a seat behind the counter, I check how much cash is in the register.
It’s always under a hundred dollars, as most people pay with cards.
Going into the app where I watch all my shows, I press play on the second-to-last episode of the series I’m currently addicted to.
The app is the only thing I splurge on. Seriously, I’d rather starve than give up my K-dramas because they’re the only joy in my pathetic life.
Every time I hear a car, I glance up, and when the vehicle passes the gas station, I go back to watching the sweet love story unfolding on the small screen of my phone.
When the credits roll on the final episode, I get up to make myself a cup of coffee. Even though it’s the cheap stuff, it’s better than nothing.
I glance over the oily burritos and corndogs that have been lying on display since this morning, and not wanting food poisoning, I grab a packet of mixed nuts and a packet of dried fruit.
I’m allowed one thing to eat during my shift, but I know Mr. Cahoon doesn’t always keep count of stock, and because he pays me so little, I don’t feel bad about taking something extra. I only risk it once a week, so I don’t draw attention to snacks disappearing.
I drink the coffee while eating one nut at a time, relishing each bite as I search for the next show to watch.
Hearing an engine, I glance up, and when I see the same man from yesterday getting out of an SUV, I choke on a half-chewed almond.
Coughing my butt off while my eyes water, I duck down behind the counter as the man comes toward the entrance.
When the scratchy feeling in my throat finally goes away, I slowly stand up, only to find the man standing right by the counter, a concerned expression on his handsome features.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone still as deep and dangerous-sounding as I remember from yesterday.
I nod quickly and clear my throat again while my face goes up in flames.
Ducking my head, I peek at him from under my bangs, admiring how well the dark blue suit fits his muscled body as he walks away from the counter.
He must work out.
Maybe he goes jogging every morning.
I wonder what he’s doing in Aurora.
Why is he getting coffee again? Surely, he tasted how bad it was yesterday.
He doesn’t add any cream or sugar, and when he comes back to the counter, I’m filled with the kind of nervousness you feel around someone you’re crushing on.
The last time I felt a similar emotion was when Jeremy kissed me.
I’m completely overwhelmed by how good-looking this man is, and when he sets the cup down on the counter, my eyes zoom in on his hands. Veins snake beneath his tanned skin, and I get a glimpse of ink under the cuffs of his jacket and shirt. I also notice the wristwatch he’s wearing is a Rolex.
I wonder what kind of tattoo he has.
“Jenna,” he murmurs.
Hearing my name, my gaze snaps up to his face, and an unexpected wave of tingles rushes over every inch of my body.
He tilts his head slightly, his brown eyes boring into mine with so much intensity, it makes my mouth go dry.
“Do you work here every night?”
I hate interacting with people, but with him it’s different. I’m fascinated by his accent and wish I had the guts to ask him where he’s from.
Jerkily, I nod, my tongue darting out to wet my dry lips.
His eyes flick down to my mouth. When it looks like tiny golden flames ignite in his brown irises, my breathing speeds up.
Wow.
Slowly, my attention moves to the scruff on his jaw before my gaze settles on his full lips.
The image of him leaning down to give me a soft, sweet kiss flits through my mind, and it feels like I’m a second away from spontaneously combusting as I blush my butt off.
The sound of another car pulling into the gas station rips me out of my thoughts, and out of habit, I glance through the windows to see Muriel climbing out of her sedan.