Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Slowly, he reaches out to me, and I freeze. I don’t even take a breath as he gently places his palm against my cheek. He tilts his head, his golden-brown gaze staring deep into mine.
“If you need anything, you can ask me,” he murmurs.
I’ll never be able to do that. I feel my face growing warm as a blush creeps up my neck.
“And if you’re in trouble, I can help.”
No, he can’t. No one can help me.
I climb to my feet and walk back to the store, just as Muriel’s car turns into the gas station.
If I tell anyone about Wayne, Derek, and Kirk, they’ll kill me and the person I ask for help. The MC club has gotten away with murder before, and they’ll get away with it again.
I hurry to the cash register, and as Muriel comes into the store, I grab a box of cigarettes and place it on the worn wooden counter.
She glances around, then asks, “Where is the hot guy. That’s his SUV right?”
I glance out the windows, and seeing the dent on the back door, but no sign of Mr. Oliveira, I frown while shrugging at Muriel.
She places the cash down and picks up her cigarettes. “See you tomorrow.” When she leaves the store, she glances to her left, then comes to a stop. “Oh, hi there. I’ve seen you here a couple of times. Are you new in town?”
“You could say that,” Mr. Oliveira replies, then he appears right outside the window.
I stare at him as Muriel says, “A bunch of us are hanging out at a friend’s house. Want to come? It will be a great way to meet some of the folks in town.”
There’s a flash of annoyance on his face. “I’m not interested.” He comes into the store, not paying Muriel any further attention.
She shakes her head before she walks toward her sedan.
When I gather the bills from the counter, I notice a plastic container. I place the cash in the register, wondering whose it is.
Mr. Oliveira gets a bottle of water and brings it to the counter. He stopped buying coffee two nights ago. He sets the bottle down, then pushes the container closer to me.
“I made extra and thought you might like some.”
Surprised, I hesitate before I lift the lid enough to see inside. It’s stacked full of golden-fried pasties.
“It’s a Portuguese dish,” he informs me. “Try one.”
They look yummier than anything I’ve had since Mom and Aunt Sherrie moved away. I can’t resist and carefully pick up one of the half-moon-shaped pastries. I sniff first, and when it smells delicious, I take a small bite.
It’s crispy, and tasting chicken and mushrooms, I almost let out a moan.
God. So good.
I take a much bigger bite and quickly devour the entire thing.
When I wipe my fingertips on my shirt, my eyes move from the container to Mr. Oliveira, whose breaths are coming faster. There’s a look that can only be described as desire on his face, and it makes the alarm bells go off inside my head.
For the longest moment, he stares at me, and I experience a weird mixture of feeling flattered and utterly self-conscious.
My heartbeat speeds up again, but this time it isn’t just out of fear but anticipation as well.
Then he breaks eye contact as he removes his credit card out of his wallet. Not thinking, my arm darts out, and I place my hand on his to stop him.
I shake my head to indicate I don’t want him to pay, and as tingles race up my arm, I slowly pull away.
He moves fast and captures my hand, but his hold isn’t tight. Then his thumb brushes over my skin, making more tingles scatter through me like little fireworks.
A kaleidoscope of butterflies erupts in my stomach, and more nervous energy pours into my chest.
“Jenna.” He waits for me to lift my gaze to his, then he says, “I want you to think of me as a friend.”
The corner of my mouth lifts slightly, but I’m too anxious to smile.
When he lets go of my hand, I quickly pull back and form fists to hide my nails that have been bitten to the quick.
He taps the lid of the container. “Eat everything. Okay?”
I nod and pull it closer to me. My lips part to thank him, but all that comes out is a puff of air before my throat threatens to close up.
Mr. Oliveira takes the bottle of water and begins to walk away, but he stops by the open door and glances back at me. “Have a good night, Jenna. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
This time, I’m able to smile, even though it's shaky.
He looks at me as if I’m from a different planet, and the smile dies on my lips. I bow my head, my fingers curling around the sides of the container.