Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
They study her green eyes, tanned skin, and colorfully tattooed arm like there’ll be more to see at the end of the night, and she leans into the attention to hang on their every word. They long to make her theirs, to feel the heat of her around them, and to brag to their friends about the one they managed to bag.
But her eyes dance with secrets and plans of her own—something I recognize from all the times before—and it won’t be long until this guy, just like all the rest, falls flat on his face and trudges out of here with his tail between his legs.
Not once have I seen her leave with her date. Instead, their faces turn ruddy red with anger and embarrassment, arguments breaking out between them as she shakes a finger in dismay, holding her own and grinning in satisfaction.
Besides the various gossip I’ve picked up throughout town, I don’t know much about Josie Ellis, but her constant display in my bar proves she’s a strong, independent woman who does what she wants and makes no apologies for it. Though, it could be said, there’s a whole other layer to her that is soft and warm and loving. She lives with her sweet grandma, Rose Ellis, and attends church with her every Sunday. She works at Harold Metcalf’s diner, and oftentimes, people request to have her as their waitress.
This woman is loved and adored by the entire town. Even Sheriff Pete Peeler talks about her like she’s his own flesh-and-blood.
But tonight’s version of Josie Ellis isn’t ooey gooey. It’s calculated. Strategic.
I watch closely, studying the big man with a beard and muscles who’s easily two times her petite size, and wait for him to break. There’s a frisson of danger in the air, although she doesn’t let on, and I have to wonder if this little game she likes to play is eventually going to catch up with her.
I grab my bucket, rag, and spray bottle of cleaner and head for the table behind theirs to get a closer listen. Sure, it needs to be cleaned, but I’ve also got a bar full of customers waiting on drinks and a twenty-two-year-old named Colby to do my bussing. This isn’t what I should be doing by any stretch of the imagination, but since all of this is going down in my very busy bar, I feel I have a responsibility to finally get to the bottom of it.
“What do you say we get out of here and make this date a little more interesting?” the chump asks just as I arrive within eavesdropping distance. He leans in to get a better view of her plumped-up cleavage, and his big, meaty hand grabs ahold of her tattooed arm.
I spin around the table and clean from the other side as she flutters her eyelashes and fake laughs, expertly extricating her arm out from under his in the motion. I’m impressed but not convinced pulling her arm away from this guy is going to be enough to keep her safe when she flips the switch.
“I don’t know, Drew,” she hums. “I think we can make this date a lot more interesting without leaving here at all.”
“We can?”
“Oh yeah,” she says eagerly, leaning into the table and resting her chin on her fists.
I slow the motion of my wipe with anticipation. Four whole months of watching her show, and I’ve never actually had the pleasure of hearing what she says to them before now. General busyness and false decorum have kept me trapped behind the bar.
Obviously, I’ve let all that go.
Drew’s excitement is undeniable as he suggests, “Should I meet you in the bathroom?”
I have to hold myself back from snorting. Fuck, this guy is going to crash so hard.
She tilts her head to the side, secret mischief narrowing her eyes. “You probably take a lot of women to the bathroom in places like this, huh?”
His eyebrows draw together, and a tingle of concern-induced anticipation shoots all the way to my toes. It’s been a long time since I fought, but I’m pretty sure I still know some of my old moves.
“No way, baby,” he says and reaches out to run one beefy finger down her cheek. “I just really like you.”
Right.
“That’s nice,” Josie comments, ending the final word in a hiss of sarcasm. Her face morphs from smile to serious in a second. “Or, at least, it would be if I didn’t know it was total fucking bullshit.”
Oh shit. Here we go.
The man’s big head jerks back in shock. “Excuse me?”
“Drew Hadish,” she rattles off his full name and doesn’t stop at that. “Thirty-one years old, married, two kids under three with your high school girlfriend turned wife, Hillary Bosworth. Grew up in Rodesh but moved to Hilsborough last year for a job at the factory with a two percent pay raise and health benefits. That’s you, right?”