Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
My mind drifted. It did that sometimes in the mornings if I didn’t want to get up immediately. Three weeks back I’d run a controlled burn for the club. We’d torched Enclave Éclipse and hadn’t lost a moment’s sleep. Nothing in the surrounding area had anything other than mild heat damage. The Miles family had quietly taken care of those properties.
I remembered the acrid smell as the electrical short I’d rigged sparked and flamed. The flames had taken structure and the whole thing burned hot and fast. The concrete slab had survived, though was no doubt severely degraded. Everything else was gone. We’d even volunteered to help clean up the mess after the fire department finished their investigations.
That was the last major task I’d done before this woman landed in my lap at Throttle. Juniper stirred against me now. Her fingers tightened against my ribs, then relaxed. A small sound escaped her. Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.
“Sleep, honey,” I said. My voice came out rough with sleep. “It’s still early.”
She made another sound, deeper, and settled. Her breathing evened out. The arm across my chest grew heavier, and she settled back into a peaceful sleep.
I waited until I was sure she was under again. Then I carefully extracted myself so I didn’t disturb her. When I freed myself, she rolled onto her side, curling into the warm space I’d left, one hand clutching the pillow where my chest had been. The blanket had slipped to her waist. My T-shirt rode up her back, exposing the dip of her spine and the curve of her hip where the sheet had tangled.
I stood beside the bed and looked at her. Morning light caught the auburn in her hair and turned it copper. Sleep had dropped her guard completely, the tension she wore like armor during the day loosening its hold. The burns on her forearms caught the light too, pale lines against her skin.
I pulled on my jeans from the floor and fastened them before padding downstairs and through the common room. Empty bottles lay scattered on the pool table. A jacket draped over a chair. The clock above the bar read 6:17.
The kitchen smelled like yesterday’s coffee and the lingering ghost of whatever someone had reheated earlier. I started a fresh pot and leaned against the counter while it brewed and my stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten since before Throttle.
The refrigerator yielded eggs, bread, and butter, so I cracked four eggs into a bowl and whisked them with a fork until the yolks broke. I scrambled some eggs, made some buttered toast, and set them on a plate. I divided the eggs between two plates and added a slice of cheese to each because cheese made everything better. The coffee finished and I poured two mugs, setting them on the counter. I hadn’t made breakfast for two in a long time. Had I ever? I’d have to think about that one.
I found a big party tray the old ladies sometimes used and managed to fit both plates and mugs on the thing, getting back upstairs easier than I’d first feared. When I reached my door, it stood slightly ajar. I nudged it wider with my boot and found Juniper halfway across the room, dressed and putting her boots on. Her car key lay on the coffee table in front of her.
She froze when she saw me. The red dress was wrinkled but intact. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot, and she’d found her lipstick somewhere because the red was back, bright and deliberate across her mouth. I had the feeling her whole outfit was her armor against the ridicule and rejection she’d experienced last night with her ex. Though, a part of me really wanted to see her back in my bed in my T-shirt. Or nothing. The wide-eyed look on her face said she thought she’d make it out before I returned.
“Morning,” I said, giving her a wink.
I crossed to the small table by the window and set the plates down. The coffee mugs followed. Steam rose from both in thin curls. I pulled out a chair and sat. “Eat something before you drive.”
She stayed where she was. “I was just --”
“Leaving. I can see that.” I picked up my fork and cut into the eggs. They were still warm. “Your car’s where Darby promised. Nobody’s touched it. But I’ll feel better if you eat first.” I grinned. “Consider it payment for putting one over on your ex, birthday girl.” She looked at the plate. Then at me. Then at the door. The war playing out on her face in real time looked like pride versus hunger versus whatever story she’d been telling herself about making a clean exit. “Come on, Juniper. Food’s getting cold.”
She gave a very put-out sounding huff but crossed to the table. Pulled out the other chair and sat. Picked up her fork. Took a bite. Her eyes closed for a second. When they opened, she turned to look at the window instead of at me. “This is good,” she said. “Really good.”