Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
She isn't wrong.
"Tacos it is," I agree, boosting her into the truck before circling around to the driver's side.
The drive to the Mexican restaurant takes all of two minutes. Harlow is a happy little clam beside me, practically squirming in her seat. She's fucking cute when she's happy, like she can't sit still or stop smiling. It looks good on her.
I snag a spot near the door and then hop out to help her out of the truck. But instead of setting her on her feet straight away, I slide her down my body this time, just to watch the way her eyes darken and she shivers.
Her hands tighten on my shoulders, a soft moan tumbling from her lips.
"Christ, I want to kiss you again," I groan, pinning her between my body and the side of the truck.
"What's stopping you?"
It's an excellent question. And truthfully…I have no answer.
I dip my head, brushing my nose along hers, breathing her in. She smells like strawberries and sunshine, but there's a faint hint of paint beneath it, as if her shower didn't entirely wash away the evidence of how she spent her day. The combination shouldn't be nearly as sexy as it is, and yet, my dick jerks in my pants anyway.
My lips brush hers in a lazy pass before I sink into her, my hands gripping her wide hips to hold her steady. She mewls into my mouth like a little kitten, opening for me.
"Harlow," I breathe. "Sweet, sweet Harlow."
"Wade," she whimpers.
If she had any idea what she does to me when she says my name like that, she probably wouldn't do it. Or hell, maybe she'd keep doing it. I don't know. All I know for sure is that, every time she moans like that, I want to fuck her until she's nothing but a puddle of ecstasy around me.
"Jesus H. Christ," a familiar voice says from behind me.
I tense instantly, my grip tightening on Harlow.
She goes rigid, too.
"This is a public parking lot, not a whorehouse," Danny growls. "Maybe have a little respec—"
I carefully set Harlow on her feet, keeping her behind me before turning to face him. He's standing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, his face still all fucked up from our fight. It's satisfying to see, not going to lie. But the baleful glare he shoots her pisses me off.
It's eating him alive that she's with me. Sucks to suck.
"What'd I tell you last time, Palmer?" I say, taking a step toward him.
"You mean before, or after you sucker punched me?" He draws up to his full height. "Because if it'd been a fair fight, you wouldn't have walked away, Jessup."
Yeah, bullshit. Danny Palmer is all talk.
"You swung first," I remind him, my arms crossed.
"Whatever." He sneers at me before trying to lean around me to get another look at Harlow. "You really want to be with a loser like him, Harlow? I can show you things he can't eve—"
"Speak to her again, and you're going to be having a very bad day, very soon," I warn him, taking another step toward him. I want to put my fist in his face again, just because he clearly needs it. But I told Walker I wouldn't. And I don't want to scare Harlow, either.
"Are you threatening me?"
"No," I say softly. "I'm telling you to stay the fuck away from Harlow and the bar while she's on shift, or you can try explaining to Dillon why so much stolen shit magically appears on your ranch. I'm not there for you to blame for your crimes anymore, Palmer."
Harlow makes a soft sound behind me. It's not really surprise, though. More…confirmation, as if she's just been waiting for the pieces to snap into place.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he lies. "The theft problem resolved itself when I fired you."
"You didn't fire me, you prick. I walked away," I remind him. "And no amount of you trying to rewrite history will change the fact that one of your cowboys heard you setting up the deal to buy that fucking tractor you sent me to pick up." I shoot him a smirk. "He'll talk if I ask him to do it. So keep talking your bullshit, and we'll let Dillon sort it out."
Danny's expression darkens, but I see the momentary flicker of doubt in his eyes. There's a reason he never runs his mouth about me to anyone except me. He's scared as hell that I'll start talking. And we both know if Dillon checks his property, it won't be clean, just like it wasn't when I walked away. He's a thief. If he can steal it, he will.
"You know what?" he says, peering around my shoulder at Harlow again. "She isn't even worth all this bullshit. I don't date cheap tras—"