Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Shy? More like, I don’t give a shit.
“This is my brother, Atlas,” Brie says. “Atlas, beside you is Zak, Jax’s brother. This is Dante Kincaid, Jax’s fiancé, and there on the end is Callan, Dante’s baby brother.”
Callan flinches when introduced, but he doesn’t look up at me. His sharp jawline moves as he grinds his teeth together. This guy is clearly hating every second of being here. Likewise, buddy.
After we place our orders, Brie and Jax monopolize the conversation, chatting about their excitement at being able to take nights off. When I agreed to come work for them, I was thankful to take the overnight shift. I’d been working security at nights and prefer the quiet darkness.
“Where are you staying?” Dante asks, his deep voice sexier than I’d like considering he’s marrying my boss.
“Brie’s,” I grumble. “I’ll be out on my own soon. Put a contract on a house not far from here.”
At the sound of my voice, the kid—Callan—finally decides to make eye contact. Black-lined hazel eyes glinting with a myriad of different emotions peer back at me. The emotion that pokes me right in the chest is despair. Having served in the military, I’ve seen my fair share of those looks.
This kid hasn’t been to battle, though.
He’s no more than seventeen, if I had to guess.
His gaze is sharp and unapologetic as the despair flees, chased by something more antagonistic. He sizes me up, slowly raking his stare down my face, sweeping past my mouth with disinterest as he takes in my black T-shirt. A derisive snort escapes him before he goes back to glaring at his soda like it’s pissed him off.
“Pay attention,” Brie gripes, leaning past Zak to swipe at me. “Dante asked if you’ve had a chance to make any friends.”
All eyes are on me.
Well, except for the challenging ones directly across from me.
“Nope.” I pop the P and shrug. “Been busy.”
“Busy channel surfing,” Brie tattles. “I’m going to hook him up with Suzy. Jax, you remember Suzy? She’s done with Adam. Everyone knows he was cheating on her.”
She prattles on about the town’s newest gossip, but I ignore her. I’m curious about the boy in front of me. What’s his problem? His brother seems cool enough. I wonder what this kid’s issue is? Based on the expensive suit Dante’s wearing and the fancy-as-fuck Range Rover we parked next to in front of Comida’s, I’d say little Callan isn’t hurting financially. Besides, the despair I’d seen wasn’t the “I didn’t get an Audi for my sixteenth birthday” kind of look. It was more of a “my life is shit, and I can’t take it anymore.” He seems to be the most real, most interesting person I’ve encountered since I’ve been back. Plus, the eyeliner gives him an evil look that I find endearing.
Zak attempts to make conversation with me but gives up when I only grunt out one-word answers, turning instead to talk to Callan. Callan’s neck muscles are taut with tension. I have the urge to reach across the table and dig my calloused fingers into the soft flesh to make it relax.
Once again, his hard stare is on me. Accusatory. Angry. Agitated. I’m not one to be intimidated by some teenage boy with an attitude problem. And if I was, I sure as hell wouldn’t have lasted as long as I did in the military or taken a job as a cop.
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in my chair, the wood creaking above the roar of the restaurant chatter. I’m fully aware this movement makes my biceps strain through the material of my flannel shirt. Callan’s pissed-off glare transforms into yet another emotion. One that, coupled with a swipe of his red tongue across his pink bottom lip, equates to interest.
“How old are you?” I blurt out, unable to think of anything else but his fucking age.
Zak stiffens with awareness. Thankfully, the other three are talking about wedding shit.
Callan’s eyes narrow, studying me like he can get inside my head. “Eighteen.”
My dick likes this answer.
“Want to trade places?” Zak asks, body tense from beside me. “So you can sit by your sister?”
I tear my stare from the beautifully tortured boy in front of me to size up the jealous little shit next to me. “I’m good.”
Zak’s nostrils flare. Clearly, he’s protective over Callan. But it’s for more than noble reasons. He likes him. It’s written all over his lovesick face. And he’s learning I’m a threat.
I wink at him because, yeah, I am a threat.
Callan
What did I miss?
Certainly not this irritatingly good-looking, rough, and much, much bigger version of Brie.
All I know is one second, Zak was being polite and trying to engage in conversation. The next thing I know, his face is purple, and he looks ready to shove the new cop—Atlas—out of his chair.