Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“No problem. Want to talk about it?”
I let out a bitter sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort. “Not really. Then again, I never want to talk about it. But I will. Just for you.” I smile, and the one he shoots in reply turns my nipples into diamond cutters.
“Whenever you’re ready.” He smiles and sips his drink slowly, waiting patiently for me to speak.
I take a sip of beer and then a chug. And then another chug. Is there anything less sexy than a woman drinking and complaining about her problems? No, there isn’t.
Then again, I’m not all that sure Preacher thinks I’m sexy to start with, so I let out a long sigh and drink half the glass of liquid courage.
“It’s my mom. She’s been on my case a lot lately about drinking and partying, drugs and not working, and I’m just sick of it.” It sounds so fucking petty and childish when I say it out loud.
But Preacher doesn’t judge. “Are you being self-destructive, or are you just being in your twenties, sowing your oats?”
I smile at the question. “I guess you do understand.” But then I shrug. “Honestly, I’m not sure what the answer is. I like to party, and I kind of missed out on it with college because I had to help my mom, which she seems to forget. But I guess there’s a level of self-destruction involved too.”
This is the most real conversation I’ve ever had with anyone other than Ro.
“Why?”
“Daddy issues,” I snort, only half-joking. I wave for the waitress to bring another round. “Sort of, anyway. He died from a drug overdose when I was really young, and I barely remember him. Mom doesn’t talk about him at all unless she’s comparing me to him. When he died it, was like she didn’t want to mention him. Ever.”
He nods. “Wow. I’m sorry.”
“Well, Ro’s the only one who actually gives a fuck about me. We’ve been tight since kindergarten. Ride or die.”
“All you need is one person who cares, Gia.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Says the guy who has an entire group of men who are like brothers.”
He nods. “Now, sure, but it wasn’t always like this.”
“Here you go, sugar.” The waitress sets down another shot and beer for me and a glass of pinkish liquid for Preacher.
“And a cranberry and tonic for the big guy.” She winks at us both and saunters off.
“You’re not drinking?” On top of off-loading my problems on this hottie, I’m also getting drunk and doing it alone. Yep, racking up the sexy points.
“Nope. Someone has to drive and keep his head on straight. Tonight, that’s me.”
“I guess I owe you one.”
“You don’t. Kindness doesn’t need to be repaid, only passed on.”
I throw back my shot and groan. “Are you for real, Preacher? Like are you really a biker with a heart of gold, or is this some kind of trap?”
Because men like him don’t exist. Not in my world anyway.
“This is me. Like you, I am a complicated mix of things, good and bad.”
“Ask my mom, and she’ll tell you I’m just all bad.”
“I doubt that. She must be proud of your computer skills?”
I laugh out loud. “So proud she wants me to just go get a shitty shift job that’ll have me barely scraping by just because it’s a job.”
Life is already shit in my neighborhood, so I might as well do what I want if that’s the future I’m facing down.
“Anyway, I’m just looking to get the hell out of Angel Harbor for good. And I will. Soon.”
“Yeah? Where will you go?”
“Anywhere but here,” I sigh. “Me and Ro are gonna bounce as soon as we get enough cash to start over.”
“How do you plan to get enough cash?”
I push my arms out and mimic typing on the table in front of me. “Using my fucking skills, of course. What else?”
Preacher smiles, and holy shit, that thing is like a nuclear weapon, breaking down the levy currently keeping my panties dry. There’s a hint of a dimple on top of his right cheek, a small scar on his left brow, and his eyes are glowing. Actually fucking glowing.
“I don’t know, Gia. You seem like a woman with a lot of talents.”
“Yeah?” I wiggle my brows. “You want to see some of my talents, Preacher Man?”
Heat flares in his eyes but his lips purse like he’s displeased. “I don’t do drunk girls, Gia.”
Oh, so that’s how he wants to play it? I lean across the table and aim one finger at him.
“First of all, I’m not drunk. I’m barely even tipsy, but let me tell you, I’m working on getting drunk. Second, I didn’t ask you to do me. I asked if you wanted to see some of my talents. Asshole.”
He grins. “And those talents you alluded to weren’t sexual?”