Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“Oh, um, yes. Sorry?” I set my mug down on the island in front of me and clasp my hands together in my lap to stop myself from fidgeting.
“Why?” He narrows his eyes, taking in just how close Atlas is sitting next to me. “You two look awfully cozy.”
“Ellis,” Atlas barks, jerking his head to the side in a way that clearly says cut it out.
So that’s his name. Ellis. It suits him.
“I’m Scarlet…” I push back from the bar and hold my hand out to him. “It’s nice to meet you.”
His lips curls. “You make a habit of going home with men you don’t know?”
I feel two inches tall. “No, I typically get their name first,” I quip, going for humor to lighten the mood, but judging from the way he glares down at me, it’s the wrong choice.
“I see.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”
My eyes sting, but I refuse to cry over another man in less than twenty-four hours. Especially one I don’t even know. Good looks does not a nice guy make, apparently. Even though he was practically prince charming last night.
“I guess I’ll call a rideshare and get out of y’all’s hair.”
Ellis gives me one last, lingering look before pivoting on his heel and heading down the hall, not even bothering with a goodbye. Talk about a personality transplant. I know some people only smoke when they drink, but maybe he’s only nice when he does—who knows?
“Don’t be silly, Scarlet. I’ll give you a ride back to your car. C’mon.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, wondering when my taste in men will finally turn in my favor, because, god knows, I only seem to want the worst kind of guys.
For the briefest of moments, I thought maybe he’s into me, but he put that notion to rest quickly and all but pawned me off to Atlas.
And so, we bantered. Until Nora was taken, and then his banter became barbs meant to do more than sting.
“Scarlet…” He somehow makes my name sound both sinful and scolding, and I hate him for it. “You should probably focus a little less on my dick when it’s something you’re never, ever going to have.”
How it’s possible for someone so handsome to be so infuriating, I’ll never know. I swear, I can practically feel the steam pouring from my ears, cartoon style. “You know what?” I coo, my voice all soft and sweet, like I use with my best friend Nora’s baby. “You can fuck all the way off. Twice.”
“I wouldn’t fuck you if we’re the last woman on earth, Princess.”
The beast next to me laughs under his breath, I’m damn near ready to blow. These two are a double dose of bad news, and I know if I give them a second more of my time, they will undoubtedly ruin my night.
I suck in a deep breath and flag down Clint, who rushes over immediately.
“Finally,” Ellis mutters, but the bartender—blessedly—only has eyes for me.
“Another creek water?” he asks, giving me every drop of his focus.
I run my tongue over my lower lip and nod. “Yes, please.”
“You got it.” He sets to work making my drink and slides it across the bar. “This one’s on the house, too.”
Ellis scoffs, and Clint’s eyes snap his way. “You got a problem?”
“Oh, I exist now?” The man beside me is surely displaying his annoyance. “I’ll take—”
“Sorry, don’t serve assholes here.”
“The fuck?” Ellis slams his hands down onto the bar top and pushes himself forward ever so slightly. “Are you kidding me?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Clint deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest.
He’s not my usual type—I tend to like my men a little more built, but if he keeps it up, I might be willing to make an exception. God knows, it’s doing something for me to be put first like this. Especially over Ellis.
“What is happening right now?” Ellis whispers, disbelief heavy in each word.
“Chelsea will take your order… if she gets around to it.”
The beast next to me holds up two fingers. Unfortunately, Clint nods and grabs him two fresh bottles of beer. To make matters worse, when Clint walks off to help other customers, he slides one past me to Ellis.
“Thanks, man,” my annoying shadow says, glaring at the side of my face like I’m the singular cause of all his problems. “Name’s Ellis.”
“No problem,” comes Beast’s rumbling reply. “I’m Silas.”
I roll my eyes and toss back my drink. “Well, as much fun as watching y’all’s budding bromance is, I’m out.”
“This isn’t an airport, Scarlet. No need to announce your departure.”
Every part of me wants to stay and argue. Letting him get the last word feels like defeat, but I know if I stick around, he’ll just keep pushing and pushing and pushing until I explode and make an ass out of myself. So, even though it’s killing me, I hold my head high, slip off my barstool, toss my hair, and stalk off toward the lady’s room to check my makeup—and maybe my pride.