Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
There was a sharp sensation in my chest I tried to ignore as I slid the bracelet on my wrist before forcing myself to move away from the trinkets—both literally and figuratively.
I needed to get out. Get some food for the room. Clear my head.
I took a few moments to apply some very careful makeup—hiding what was left of my bruising behind it, then changed into a dress that didn’t smell like coconut-lime-rum, grabbed my purse, and made my way out of the motel.
I found myself immediately drawn to The Bog, letting myself in the back door and walking into a kitchen that was just starting to buzz. Dishwashers were setting up their station. Bartenders were collecting fruit into big plastic containers from the walk-in to slice at the bar. Two servers were standing near the schedule board, chatting, likely trying to rearrange their schedules to fit in some sort of event one had to go to.
“Lula. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” a voice called. Turning, I saw Rian Murphy standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the doorway to the front of the bar, blocking the way for anyone else.
But that was Rian for you. Cocky, confident, maybe a little inclined to think the world revolved around him.
Like fucking some random girl on a coworker’s desk.
“What? You couldn’t find someone pretty to bend over my desk lately?”
“To be fair, I didn’t bend her over your desk. It was more like I had her like this,” he said, gesturing like he was holding up someone’s legs.
“Oh, God. Don’t finish that sentence.”
Rian shot me a smirk. “You look good, girl. That vacation did the trick, huh?”
Oh, my ‘vacation’ did a lot of things. Some of them irrevocable.
“I got my head back on straight,” I said. “Just wanted to drop in and tell Cillian I’m back.”
“He’s not here.”
“He’s not here?” I glanced at the clock. “It’s getting close to opening time.”
“Yeah, he’s been… busy lately.”
My stomach dipped.
I reached out, grabbing Rian around the wrist and tugging him into my office so we wouldn’t be overheard.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“If you wanted to pull me in here for some afternoon delight, that’s all you had to say, doll.”
“Be serious,” I demanded. “Is there some kind of threat or something that I should be aware of?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“But Cillian hasn’t been at work?”
“I’m every bit as surprised as you are.”
“Only because him being gone means you actually have to work.”
“That’s definitely part of it,” he agreed. “It’s probably good for him, though. He’s been working too hard his whole life.” Rian paused. “Kinda like someone else I know.”
“I’m not working right now.”
“Says the woman at her workplace on her time off.”
“I’m not here. I was just trying to talk to Cillian.”
“Sure. Sure. But since I have you here,” he said, waving a hand out.
Turning, I saw it.
The desk I’d shopped for and printed out and stuck to the notification board the brothers used to leave one another notes before I’d left. I guess Rian could take a hint.
“Oh, wow. It’s even more gorgeous in person,” I said, running my hand over the burl wood surface. “Where’d my old desk go?”
“I gifted it to someone.”
“Your sex desk?”
“It was one time!” he said, shaking his head at me. “If I fucked someone up against the bar wall, would that make it my sex wall?”
“Kind of.” He shot me a wince and rubbed the back of his neck. “You whore,” I teased. “Do you ever take it to the bed?”
“Beds are fun. Other places are fun too.”
Unbidden, the memory of riding Raff in the backseat of the town car while driving through traffic came flooding back.
I’d never done anything like that before.
And Rian was right—there was something exhilarating about it.
“Well, on that note: my new desk is off-limits for your sexual exploits.”
“That thing cost a small fortune. Having to replace it is deterrent enough. Well, I gotta… work,” he said, waving out at the bar.
“You don’t even know what you’re supposed to do, do you?”
“I figure I can fake it until Sean, Conor, or Eoin come in to actually do what needs to be done. It’s nice having you back, doll.”
With that, he left, and I took a moment to admire the desk that, a week or so ago, would have been something to keep my spirits up for months. But I didn’t feel much of the excitement as that weird sinking sensation inside me only grew stronger with each passing moment.
Determined not to harp on it, I left my office and walked across the street to the grocery store, browsing the sad selection of premade foods to get me through the next few days.
No more loaded hot dogs, authentic tacos, or jambalaya. No amazing fresh coffee.
It’s not forever, I reminded myself.
In fact, it could be a lot shorter than I’d originally thought. If Arty was as good as everyone claimed. If Drake was more gullible than he thought he was.