Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 126098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
“Something smells good,” he called, heading into the living room.
Hawk was on the couch with a beer. “Slick’s making pot roast.”
“Nice,” Tex replied. He rounded the corner of the hallway and headed into the kitchen where the 5’3” woman was stabbing potatoes to see if they were done. He leaned down and kissed her on the top of the head. “Smells good, Slick.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“Stop mauling my woman,” said a voice from behind him. Tex turned and saw Chris ‘Shooter’ Sullivan ambling into the kitchen.
Tex grinned at his former lieutenant. “I can’t. She smells like meat and potatoes. It’s primal instinct.” Tex reached out to snag a piece of meat and Slick slapped him with her hand. He jerked it back. “Damn woman!”
“Wash your hands.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Tex said, teasingly and headed to the sink. As he dried them off, Slick looked back at him over her shoulder.
“Tex? Do you know a girl named Abby Raines?”
Tex frowned. “I’m not- wait- I met an Abby on Friday afternoon. Tall, redhead, amazing green eyes.”
Slick’s own eyes widened. “Really? She’s looking for you.”
A slow grin spread on his face. He couldn’t get exactly what he wanted from that hot little recently-ex-co-ed, but she’d sure be fun to tumble around with in the sack.
“Not like that,” Slick admonished and his grin faltered a bit. “She wanted to ask you something. About your bike. She didn’t really say.” He grinned again. Yeah, okay. That was a cover story he could deal with. Sure. She wanted to ask about his Harley. Slick rolled her eyes at him. “She really did say it was just a question.” Slick pulled out a card and handed it to him.
Tex examined it. “She said she worked at a hotel. Didn’t say it was that posh one off Main Street. Very nice.” He pocketed it.
“Who works at a hotel off main street?” Hawk asked, coming in to wash his own hands.
“Cute redhead I met the other day. I helped her with her spark plugs.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Hawk asked, drying his hands.
“You can after I give her a call and meet her for drinks,” Tex told his friend.
“Take her someplace she can get a martini,” Slick told him. “She had to settle for straight gin at the bar.”
Tex considered this. “Hmm, I can do that. In fact, we can meet up at that hotel she works at. Get our drinks downstairs and then head upstairs for-”
“Stop!” Slick demanded. “No scary stories.”
Tex laughed. “Relax, Slick. Even vanilla sex with Vegas would be a hell of a good time.”
“Vegas?” Hawk asked.
“She’s from there. Grew up there,” Tex replied.
“Vegas is a weird town,” Hawk said. “Maybe you don’t want to get mixed up with a woman who might be freakier than you, cowboy.”
Tex frowned. “I would love to get mixed up with a girl who was freakier than me. Especially one who looks like Vegas. But I don’t think there are any.” Tex opened the utensil drawer and grabbed a handful of spoons, forks, and knives and went to set Slick and Shooter’s table for dinner.
He waited until Friday to give Vegas a call, not wanting to come on too strong and not wanting to give her too much lead time to talk herself out of going for a drink with him. She seemed pretty locked down sexually when he’d tried to flirt with her and got nowhere. He would’ve thought she wasn’t interested except she’d had her hair pulled up off her neck and he could see her pulse in her throat, banging away when he’d complimented her and touched her hand.
She had gorgeous red hair, deep green eyes, ripe, full lips, a rack to die for and an ass to match. Surely he hadn’t been the only person to ever compliment her on her looks. She was up for an award for worst-dressed woman in South Dakota, though, with those loose jeans and ill-fitting t-shirt. But then she’d been on a road trip 1,000 miles from Vegas to Rapid City and he knew he’d rather be comfortable than fashionable in a similar situation.
Surely she didn’t dress that way for work. He imagined Vegas in a tailored business suit that accentuated those breasts and that lovely round bottom and smiled. Hot. Add a pair of killer heels and he’d get on his knees and beg her to go out with him. He got out his cell phone and dialed the cell number printed on the card. She answered on the second ring.
“Abigail Raines.”
“Hey there, Vegas. It’s Tex.”
She was quiet on the other end and he almost checked his phone to see if the call had gotten dropped. “Hi,” she finally said. “Thanks for calling.”
“No problem, honey. Sorry I didn’t call sooner. Been a busy week.” Teeny tiny lie. So worth it, though.