Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
It never arrives.
Is this girl for real?
“I can see you don’t believe me,” Petra says, popping a freshly arrived fry into her mouth. “We’ll work on that at the wedding.”
“You see my face, don’t you?” I ask, yanking off my hood, holding my breath while she finally, finally acknowledges the disgusting network of puckered scars on the right side of my face. “No woman wants to look at this, day in and day out.”
“I was wondering when you were going to take off the hood. It’s not polite to have one up in a restaurant, you know. Even a diner.” She pushes the plate of fries in my direction and regards me thoughtfully. “I think maybe you haven’t spent enough time around women. Sure, we’re mean and a little judgmental. Especially about men. That’s because we have to keep our guard up. But we’re also compassionate and nurturing. Able to see beyond the superficial. And we usually know a good guy when we see one.” She lowers her voice to a murmur. “Maybe the scars are painful to you, so you assume they’ll be painful to everyone. But they only make me want to know your story.”
I’m having a difficult time swallowing. “They don’t…repel you?”
“No,” she whispers, without hesitation. Then, as if she senses I need to change the subject, she clasps her hands together on the table. “So, fake boyfriend. How did we meet?”
Dammit.
I’m going to bring this girl to the wedding, aren’t I?
And when relief swarms in my chest, I know I’m in trouble.
three
Petra
My objective has been achieved.
I’ve convinced Barry to bring me to the wedding.
Even though I’m nineteen, which he clearly finds horrifying.
Which is unfortunate, because…there’s something about Barry that makes me feel warm. Discombobulated. I’ve had a lot of honest conversations with my sisters about what it’s like to sleep with men. Their verdict? Usually, it sucks. But every once in a while, a man comes through that causes their body to respond. They don’t have to fake their pleasure.
It’s real.
Apparently, that authentic physical reaction includes prickled skin, sensitive nipples, a strange but not unpleasant tummy ache.
As I walk to the parking lot of the diner with Barry, I am checking all those boxes.
Uh oh.
What a terrible time to have my very first sexual attraction to a man. When he’s made it clear he is not interest in my too-young ass.
There’s also the fact that he’s gigantic. Do I have a kink? Is it giants?
He’s at least six foot six. Laden with muscle. Thick, though, as well. Like he works out on the regular but never hesitates to eat what he wants. Why is that so hot?
As a woman, I never feel safe in parking lots at night, but I’m almost giddy with safety right now, because Barry saunters beside me, carrying my bag at his side, scanning the parking lot for threats. There’s an air about him that proclaims he can and will handle anything. This man really thinks himself unattractive? Sure, the scars are a little jarring, but only because they look like they hurt. Badly. But they frame the most intensely beautiful blue eye I’ve ever seen.
He glances down at me now with both of those piercing blue eyes, his attention like a caress down the slope of my neck.
“We’ll check into the resort and change, then we’ll head to the welcome party,” he says, tipping his head toward the highway. “The resort is half an hour away.”
“Yes, I mapped it on my phone.” I purse my lips at him. “I’m a full-service fake girlfriend.”
“No, you’re not,” he says, staunchly.
“You don’t have to keep reminding me we’re not going to have sex, dude. I got the message.”
“Just making sure.”
I have to jog to catch up with his long strides.
When he notices that I’ve been forced to run, he slows down immediately.
He’s a man who isn’t accustomed to walking with someone. Anyone.
That observation makes my throat hurt. “How old would I have to be for you to consider taking me to bed, though?”
“Why does it matter? It won’t change anything.”
“I’m just curious.”
“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Twenty-five.”
“What?” I shove him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. “That’s bananas.”
“That’s appropriate.”
I blow a raspberry. “Appropriate? Men call Sweet Fleet on a daily basis asking for the youngest escort we have on the payroll.”
“I’ll consider myself proud not to be one of them.” His step slows as something seems to occur to him. “You said you’d never escorted before, right? You only answer the phones.”
“That’s right.”
“Why did you agree to meet me?”
“I liked you right away. You have an honest voice.” That startles him a little, and he looks away, almost like my admission made him shy. “But also, you said you wouldn’t require sex and…being that I’m a virgin…you seemed like a safe first job. Probably my last job, too, if I’m honest. My sisters think I have a stomach bug. They’d kill me if they knew I was with a client.” I’m rambling because I just blurted that I’m a virgin and I really didn’t mean to. “Stop looking at me like that.”