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"So, have you lived here all your life?" he asked as Joe set another round in front of us.
Running my finger around the small base of the shot glass, I weighed his question, contemplating how I wanted to answer. "No. I moved here four months ago after my dad died," I lied, giving him the standard answer I'd given everyone else when I moved to town.
"Really?" he asked, studying me critically.
I was slightly taken aback by his response. I'd been greeted with nothing but sympathy when I'd let the lie slip on previous occasions. I always felt a twinge of guilt over it, but knew in the end it was necessary. "It was quite sudden," I answered defensively.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he replied, finally offering up the words that I had grown accustomed to hearing.
"Thanks," I said, not sure if his sympathy was genuine. Maybe he really was some psycho who traveled through small towns collecting heads and storing them in his trunk. I sucked down the contents of my glass once again. My brain was teetering on the edge of remaining focused on the noticeably rock-hard pecs beneath his shirt and becoming drowned by the liquor party that was flowing through my bloodstream. My tongue became numb while the buzzing in my head intensified, making me wish I could rest it on the bar. I contemplated climbing up on the bar so I could lie down, but even that seemed like way too much work. Instead, I tried to focus on my last coherent thought, knowing it had something to do with my head.
"Are you going to put your trunk in my head?" I asked, finally able to make my tongue work.
"Excuse me?" he asked amused.
"Wait. I mean, are you going to put your trunk in me?" I asked, though the question still seemed slightly off.
"Is that what the kids are calling it now?" he asked with open amusement.
"Wait. What did I say?" I asked, shaking my head in a feeble attempt to clear it.
"Well, darling, you asked if I was going to stick my trunk in you. Is that an invitation?"
"Well, shit. I meant, are you going to put my head in your trunk?" I asked slowly, making sure the word placement was correct.
"Just your head?"
"Unless you keep the whole body, but won't your trunk get full if you keep the whole body?" I reasoned, pleased that I was able to form a coherent question even if it was related to my decapitation.
"I'm more a breast kind of guy," he said, smirking.
Laughter bubbled up out of me. "So, your trunk is full of boobies?" I asked, giggling uncontrollably.
"Boobies?" he snorted. "I haven't heard that word in like twenty years."
"Twenty years? How old are you?" I asked, giggling again at the idea that my one-night stand would be with an old man.
"Twenty-nine. What about you?"
"Twenty-nine? That's not old."
"Who said I was old?"
"Didn't you?" I asked confused over why I had thought he was old.
"I only said I haven't heard them called 'boobies' in twenty years. It's actually closer to sixteen years to be precise."
"So, 'boobies' is a thirteen-year-old-boy word?" I snickered again, not surprised at all. I'd been known to crack up over word choices for years. It was official. I had the mind of a thirteen-year-old boy.
After that, the conversation took on a hazy quality as Nathan ordered more drinks. I lost track of what my thirteen-year-old mind said, but I was pretty sure I asked Nathan to put his trunk in me again, which is what I was going for before the booze messed it up.
About the Book
Ashton Garrison walked away from a privileged life in order to hide from the one thing she's not willing to face. She knows she left behind a trail of pain, but in the long run, her betrayal will hurt less than the truth. She now has one goal: Live life to the fullest with no regrets and no attachments. She has high hopes that a move to new surroundings will provide the escape she desires, but what Ashton doesn't count on is how fate always seems to find a way to screw up any good plan. Sometimes, when love comes knocking, the pull is too strong not to answer. Suddenly, what she thought she wanted to escape from is what Ashton now wants more than anything.
Nathan Lockton has one mission: find his target and complete the task he was hired to do—no attachments and no emotion necessary. He's done it over and over again. What he thought was a typical lost-and-found job has turned into a life examining moment as Nathan is forced to deal with something he has always ignored--his feelings. Now faced with a decision, Nathan must choose to either follow his heart or complete the job.
Love can come when you least expect it. The question is: If the odds are stacked against you, how far are you willing to go for the one you love?
About the Author
Tiffany King is the author of The Saving Angels Series, Wishing for Someday Soon, Forever Changed, Unlikely Allies, Miss Me Not and Jordyn: A Daemon Hunter Novel book one. Writer by day and book fanatic the rest of the time, she is now pursuing her life-long dream of weaving tales for others to enjoy.
She has a loving husband and two wonderful kids. (Five, if you count her three spoiled cats). Her addictions include: Her iphone and ipad, chocolate, Diet Coke, chocolate, Harry Potter, chocolate, and her favorite TV shows. Want to know what they are? Just ask.
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