Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“Beth?”
She blinked and found the object of her thoughts standing very close, too close, scowling.
“Shit,” she yelped with her heart nearly leaping out of her chest as she jumped away on instinct, raising her hands as though to ward off a punch.
“Fuck. I’m sorry.” He lifted his hands and stepped back, softening his posture, but his expression remained serious. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I asked a few times if you were hungry, and you didn’t answer.”
“Oh.” He’d spoken to her? Her spine relaxed, but her heart still thumped way too fast, and her insides tumbled around like clothes in a dryer. The surge of anxiety morphed into a hot wave of shame. This man had literally rescued her, and she was acting as though he’d attack her at any moment. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t hear you. Must’ve been lost in my mind.”
He nodded. “Understandable. I’ll make sure I don’t approach you unless you’re aware.”
“I’m not afraid of you.” God, now she sounded like a petulant child.
He tilted his head and stared at her. She could practically hear his thoughts loud and clear in the room.
Who are you trying to convince, yourself or me?
“Didn’t say you were, but I wouldn’t blame you, babe. A man’s been hurting you for a while, and I’m a big man. You saw me beat the fuck outta someone tonight, and now I got in your space without your permission. It was my bad. Won’t happen again.”
Her stomach sank. Was this her life now? Would she flinch every time a large man came near her? If so, she’d never be able to step foot in the clubhouse she considered a second home. Every damn man she knew was huge, aggressive, and loud.
“But—”
“No buts. It’s on me, and I’ll be more careful.” He smiled as he let his arms drop to his sides. “Now, I could really use some tacos. Please tell me you know the best taco place in all of Texas.”
None of the men in her father’s club would hurt her, or any woman, for that matter.
They’d die before hurting her.
She’d remind herself of that a hundred times a day if she needed to because she refused to let herself be afraid of her family. A cold knot in her gut whispered it might be a long time before she stopped jumping at shadows, but she was stubborn enough to deny it for now.
Beth forced a smile as she nodded. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Tacos she could handle, and it would give her something to focus on besides the shitty state of her life.
Thirty minutes later, Saint dragged the small, round table from the corner of the room to between the beds, where they loaded it down with enough Tex-Mex to feed the entire MC.
He looked slightly ridiculous sitting at the small table, like a kid trying to eat at their doll’s table. His cramped legs didn’t seem to bother him. He rubbed his hands together as he studied the food with a gleeful smile before grabbing a few items.
“Dig in,” he said, before chomping half a taco in one bite. His eyes rolled upward as he groaned. “Damn, woman, you know good food.”
He took another bite. This time, the sauce lingered on his lips, but not for long. He swiped it away with a quick lick she couldn’t help but stare at.
Note to self, Saint likes to eat. And you can stop staring at his mouth anytime now.
Now that some of the utter shock of the day was settling from sharp and jarring to a dull disbelief, she was able to really look at him, and, God, was there a lot of him to look at. He was big, muscular, and one of the hottest men she’d ever seen.
Most of what she remembered of him from when she’d spent her younger years around the club was a surly, volatile guy in his twenties who drove Thunder and Makenna crazy for a few years while finding himself and his place in life.
She could relate.
Back then, he’d been tall and gangly, all elbows and attitude that had fascinated her. Now, he’d filled out into this rock-solid, powerful man full of tattoos and capability. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about his demeanor gave off the impression that he could handle anything that came his way with ease. There was a quiet confidence about him that she admired. Saint wouldn’t be the loud, center-of-attention guy at a party, but he’d be the one to call when shit hit the fan.
That realization gave her a sense of security she hadn’t felt in a long time and hadn’t even realized was missing until tonight.
Not missing. Stolen. Jason stole it piece by piece while you watched.
Like the frog slowly boiling in the pot, her life had reached the point of unbearable, and she only recognized it now that this man had helped her escape.