Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I’d been a little surprised to hear a man answering me from above.
I didn’t like to stereotype based on something as silly as gender, but we did tend to see more women in our establishment than men.
I absolutely hadn’t been prepared for the most gorgeous man I had ever seen to be standing there in front of me.
He was tall and fit under his black tee and basketball shorts, and I was maybe a little too interested in the shape of his arms, of the breadth of his chest, of the slope of his hips.
Ugh, fine.
Did I wonder about his cock too? Yes, yes I did.
What can I say? I’d been a busy woman. I hadn’t known a man in that way in a really long time. And, well, when a gorgeous man was standing in front of you, it seemed perfectly rational to wonder what was hiding in his pants. And what he could do with it.
But the body was nothing compared to the face, anyway.
All sharp, masculine features, black hair, brows, and thick lashes. And these intense blue-gray eyes that seemed deep enough to dive into.
We weren’t even going to get started on his voice.
I’d always had a thing for voices.
My mother claimed it was since I was a baby, that whenever a beautiful male voice was speaking, I would gravitate toward it, or be lulled to sleep by it.
His was definitely beautiful. Deep and smooth. It kind of washed over you when he spoke, cool and refreshing.
Ooookay then.
I needed to get a grip.
This was a customer, not a guy I’d met at the bar. Or, let’s be rational here, the plant section of the local home improvement store.
I needed to behave.
He even smelled good, too, though. Even if it was clear he hadn’t showered yet. It looked like he’d maybe had an early morning workout, then had possibly done some work on his car, judging by a bit of oil that seemed to be on his arm.
God, what did he smell like when he did shower and put himself together?
Like sin, I imagined.
When I got close to him to look over the menu with him, yeah, I was starting to wonder how bad for business it would be to kick the other customers out, lock the door, tell my mom to go take a walk, and then have this man hop me up on the counter, and slam deep inside of me, thrusting into me until we were both cascading toward oblivion.
I guess I was kind of thankful for the interruption when the door chimed again.
When I turned, I was surprised to see two more men making their way in. I thought, for a split second, that they were possibly friends of this handsome new stranger since their gaze was in his direction.
But then one of them reached into his jacket.
And came back with a gun.
Honestly, I don’t think I had any clear thoughts right then.
Just panic.
Just instinct.
I shoved Nino without even thinking.
Only to feel the bullets slice into my own body.
The pain was delayed for one stunned moment, even as I looked down to see the red blooming through my yellow apron.
The pain itself didn’t seem to set in until my body was collapsing down on top of Nino.
Then, oh, God, then, the pain was indescribable.
“Call the police,” Nino barked as he carefully pulled me up against his chest as he sat on the floor. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart,” he said, voice tense, but comforting at the same time. “You’re going to be just fine. Try to take some deep breaths,” he said as he reached back onto the table, grabbing the two linen napkins, bunching them up in his big hand. “This is going to hurt, honey,” he said, then pressed them against the bullet wounds.
I think I screamed.
I might have even blacked out for a moment.
Because the next thing I was conscious of was my mother crouching down beside me, her beautiful eyes swimming with tears.
“Hey there my angel girl,” she said, voice quivering, but she was trying to keep her tone light. For me. “The ambulance is on its way, okay? You just have to be strong for a couple more minutes,” she said, taking one of my hands into both of hers and squeezing hard. “How about we try to do some of those deep breathing exercises we’ve always done when something hurts, okay?” she asked.
Granted, those deep breathing exercises were typically only used for headaches and menstrual cramps. But since it felt like I’d been stabbed with burning hot pokers, I thought I would try anything.
So I breathed with my mom as my hand clung to Nino’s arm, fingers digging in, likely leaving bruises in their wake, but I couldn’t think of that. I could only think of the pain. And, underneath that, why someone would bring guns into my work and shoot me.