Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Had she plowed through the books I had gotten her? Back when she was younger, she was never without a book in her purse, in her backpack. She would constantly ask if I could drop her and Iggs at the library to hang out, or if I could drive her past it so she could return books or pick up something she'd been on the waiting list for. I'd heard her say she went through one on a school day and two on each day there was no school. She'd been an insatiable reader.
Unfortunately, it was slim pickings at the box store. The majority of the books were paperbacks that seemed like thrillers or crime fiction. I ended up having to get her a couple that looked like historicals, a biography of a 1920s socialite, and a couple ones with couples embracing on the cover. Thankfully, so late at night, the only lane open was self-checkout, so I didn't have to get eyes from the cashier over the smut.
It was proving hard to picture Ferryn picking up and reading them. I guess because it was proving hard to think of her as a full-grown woman with her own sexual history.
The recognition of that made my stomach drop a bit, something I chose to blame on a bump on the road I was speeding a bit down.
"Might not be up yet," a voice called out toward me, masculine, with a hint of a southern twang, making my head move to find him leaning against his front door, smoking lazily.
Last time I had been to my place, the guy who had been living there was all of eighty with a wet cough and rheumy eyes.
Who this new guy was was anyone's guess, but I had a feeling he wasn't hanging out in Navesink Bank for the proximity to the beaches. He looked like he was here for trouble.
"Excuse me?"
"Your girl. We were up late drinking. Drank me under the fucking table," he added. "Got a tolerance I've never seen. But you would already know that, wouldn't you?"
There was an odd inflection in his tone, like he was suspicious of something. What, I wasn't sure. Since there was no way he knew who Ferryn was or that she had once been missing.
"Yeah, she's always been able to hold her own." In more ways than one. "Who are you?"
"Finch," he supplied inclining his head.
"Right, well, Finch, I would appreciate you staying the fuck away from my girl."
"Don't worry, man. I'm no threat to you. Like my girls a little meatier. And with duller claws."
"Duller claws? In this town?" I asked, lips curving up. "Good luck with that."
With that, feeling a little bit better that Ferryn was not Finch's type—even if I knew it was none of my business who was or was not interested in her, that it wasn't my job to protect her, that I had no reason to feel possessive over her—I made my way into the apartment just as Ferryn was walking out of the bathroom.
In nothing but a pair of the polka dot red panties I'd bought her and a white ribbed tank that left very little to the imagination.
Her somewhat corded arm was twisted up, rubbing at her wet hair with a towel.
"Do you know the hot water is out?" she asked, not sounding entirely bothered by the fact. As though a cold shower didn't bother her in the least. When I previously heard Iggy tell me that when she slept over at Ferryn's house, she would take such long—and hot—showers that her little brothers would bitch that there was no warm water left.
Again, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of life she had been living since she'd left? Fleabag accommodations where she got used to a lack of basic human necessities?
Just the idea of that made my stomach twist, not liking that image, not wanting to picture her living such a fate.
"I would call the owner, but it is probably easier just to fix it myself."
"You know how to fix things?"
"You don't need to sound so shocked," I told her, lips curving up, finding all the anger from the night before dissipated. She seemed to feel the same, taking the offered coffee with a simple Thanks before walking over to the brown bag of breakfast sandwiches and hash browns on the counter. Without even a thought to putting pants on.
I couldn't decide if I found it charming or incredibly distracting. Or, well, both. I'd never known Ferryn to be shy, but there was something in the way she moved around without a single care in the world about the bottoms of her rounded ass cheeks hanging out of her panties that was very indifferent. As though she either didn't consider the fact that it was sexy, or that she was so confident in her sexuality that it was simply a part of her, something she felt no need to feel odd about. Even in front of someone who was all but a stranger to her the past several years.