Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 141634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Gritting my teeth so hard they ache, I pull up to my house, and I’m surprised to see Donovan on my porch.
“No time to talk, I need to be somewhere,” I say as I pass him and go into my house.
“The mail carrier was different today,” he grumbles, and I hear him come in behind me as I go straight to my bedroom.
“So what? Did they deliver what you ordered or not?” Quickly pulling off my suit, I grab a pair of faded, well-worn jeans and a dark gray long-sleeve Henley. Donovan's standing in my bedroom doorway watching me get ready. “What?” I bark as I grab my boots.
“I don’t like when the mail carrier is different.” He looks down at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Where are you going?”
“Pretty in Pink,” I say as I tug one boot on and lace it up.
“Why?”
“Donovan, I don’t have time to play twenty questions.” Just as I say it, a thought occurs to me. “Wait, I need you to come with me.”
“No,” he says firmly.
“I don’t know if she’s driving tonight, and if she is, I’ll need to drive her car. I don’t want mine parked at the bar overnight. Come with me and drive it home.”
“I have no idea what any of that means. But what if this she didn’t drive and you need to give this person a ride home? Your car only holds two.”
“Then you can take a car service home.”
“No.” This time his answer has anger on the end of it. “You know I don’t like people seeing me.”
It’s then I look up at my brother and take in the scar down one side of his face and over his jaw. It’s been two years since his accident, but to him, it might as well have been last week. His scar is still pink and healing, but I don’t think it’s as bad as he’s built it up in his head. Even now he’s wearing dark jeans and a dark hoodie, and he’s let his hair grow long to cover it as much as he can. He even grew a beard to try and cover it, but it’s too pronounced to hide.
He looks like he’s trying to blend into the shadows as much as possible, and I hate seeing him like this. He wasn’t always this way. He used to be the life of the party, and I was the asshole. Now he’s giving me a run for my money on being the brooding alpha.
“Okay, then I’ll get a car service home. Just drive me to the bar, will you?” He presses his lips together and looks out the window. “Please,” I say, and after a second he lets out a long breath.
“All right.”
Grabbing my keys, we exit my house and get into the car. I would let him drive, but I’m worried he won’t drive fast enough, and I’ve got to get to this bar before Valerie does.
It doesn’t take long before I see Pretty in Pink up ahead, and I begin scanning the parking lot for her car. When I see the empty white sedan parked right up front, I growl. I’m too late, and she’s already gone inside.
“Give me five minutes,'' I say. “I want to make sure she doesn’t try and run.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Donovan asks me, and I roll my eyes.
“Obviously not,” I answer before I get out of the car and head inside the bar.
The place has been updated since the last time I was in here for drinks with one of my clients. He was going through a messy divorce, and I worried about him drinking alone. Before it was kind of run-down and nothing special, but now the place is packed and looks like it’s been totally updated. The space is modern and sexy, and I’m even angrier Valerie is in here half naked.
“But we just got here,” I hear someone close to the bar say and then something that sounds like a foot stomp.
Moving through the crowd, I keep looking until I spot one of Valerie’s friends at the bar with a guy holding her against him. “Fuck.”
When I get closer, I see she’s wearing a white veil covered in neon dicks and she must have been the one stomping her foot. There’s a man holding her, shaking his head.
“It’s not happening, Julie. Say goodnight to your friends.”
For a second, I think about stopping him from grabbing her, but I see her try to hide a smile. “It’s my bachelorette night. You can’t make me go home early.”
“I can and I will. You’re not single, so it’s not your last night of freedom. Sorry, babe, but you’ve been my bride since the first time you smiled at me. You’re not celebrating anything but being my wife, and you’re sure as fuck not doing it at a bar half dressed.”