Read Online Back to You: A Hudson Family Series- Book 1- Synclair and Reece by Chontelle Brison - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chontelle Brison
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would get new jobs and that kind of made me sad. I knew these people, they were familiar, I knew what to expect and now I was going to have to start over with a new crew.
Speaking of the crew, the only person I had to actually leave a message for was Rachel. I didn’t call her often and since I didn’t know what she did when she wasn’t at work, I had no idea where she was. Probably some football game, I mused. She was young and needed to be out there. Part of me worried about Rachel and all her optimism. But she wasn’t me, she didn’t have the same strikes against her that I did. She was smart, beautiful, from a great family and appeared to have brothers who watched over her, albeit in a smothering fashion. If I ever met them, I was going to have to tell them to back off a little. I understood the idea of wanting to protect Rachel but the way Rachel made it sound, she was in constant fear of being forced home to what sounded like a two cow farm in the middle of nowhere in Northern Nevada.
I had asked before if she was frightened of her brothers if she was worried they would hurt her? But she had dodged the question by laughing about how paranoid I was. I had let it drop, but if I found out one of them ever hurt that girl, I’d probably gut them like a fish.
Shaking my head, I resolved to get a hold of Rachel tomorrow, tonight I needed to blow off some steam. Since I had already gotten my ass handed to me earlier, I decided working out my aggression in a more lady like fashion was what I needed.
Hey, don’t judge me, I’d had a shitty day and if it was weak of me to want a little diversion, then so what, tonight I was going to be weak.
I skimmed the bar to see what was available. Mostly guys in suits. Some convention was apparently in town, there was generally some convention in Vegas at all times. Like a lioness looking for the weak gazelle to hunt, I zeroed in on two good looking guys in very nice, well-tailored suits. The taller of the two was blond with eyes so blue they were virtually clear. He had strong features and I could see by the way his suit hugged his arms that he worked out. I followed down the length of him, letting my hazel eyes soak all of him in. Nice Italian shoes rounded out the outfit. Okay yum.
The guy he was with was hunched over nursing a whiskey on ice. He didn’t look happy. Although equally attractive the sad guy just didn’t seem ready to have a good time. Just then, the sad guy looked up, his dark chestnut hair falling into his eyes. He had to be in his late twenties, his face seemed kinder, younger than the taller guy. Suddenly, he caught me staring at him and his whole face transformed. He went from sourpuss to a dazzling, white smile, with dimples to boot. Green eyes captured mine and for a moment I swear he looked familiar. Struck by how good looking these men were and how oddly familiar, the sad guy was, I just gawked at him, part of me struggling to place him, the other wanting see what it would be like to be the “cougar” woman.
After all, I was on the dark side of 35 and he couldn’t be more than 28 at most. His friend turned to see what he was grinning at and I was struck hard with the second-megawatt smile of the night. Jesus, was there a hot man convention in town? Without breaking eye contact with me, blue eyes sauntered toward me. Suddenly aware of my informal attire, I actually felt embarrassed. Normally my heeled boots, jeans and a tank top that said ‘Savage,' would not have made me feel odd. Not even the fact that my hair was in a ponytail and I had zero makeup on, nope, ordinarily I was in MY bar.
I mean, I knew the tank top stretched across my chest in all the right ways and the jeans made my butt look lifted and full. However, these guys were USDA grade choice and I probably looked like a freaking hooker. Shit Syn, I told myself. Pull it together, get in, get on, get off, get down, get him out…That was the rule, simple, easy. I needed to remember
Speaking of the crew, the only person I had to actually leave a message for was Rachel. I didn’t call her often and since I didn’t know what she did when she wasn’t at work, I had no idea where she was. Probably some football game, I mused. She was young and needed to be out there. Part of me worried about Rachel and all her optimism. But she wasn’t me, she didn’t have the same strikes against her that I did. She was smart, beautiful, from a great family and appeared to have brothers who watched over her, albeit in a smothering fashion. If I ever met them, I was going to have to tell them to back off a little. I understood the idea of wanting to protect Rachel but the way Rachel made it sound, she was in constant fear of being forced home to what sounded like a two cow farm in the middle of nowhere in Northern Nevada.
I had asked before if she was frightened of her brothers if she was worried they would hurt her? But she had dodged the question by laughing about how paranoid I was. I had let it drop, but if I found out one of them ever hurt that girl, I’d probably gut them like a fish.
Shaking my head, I resolved to get a hold of Rachel tomorrow, tonight I needed to blow off some steam. Since I had already gotten my ass handed to me earlier, I decided working out my aggression in a more lady like fashion was what I needed.
Hey, don’t judge me, I’d had a shitty day and if it was weak of me to want a little diversion, then so what, tonight I was going to be weak.
I skimmed the bar to see what was available. Mostly guys in suits. Some convention was apparently in town, there was generally some convention in Vegas at all times. Like a lioness looking for the weak gazelle to hunt, I zeroed in on two good looking guys in very nice, well-tailored suits. The taller of the two was blond with eyes so blue they were virtually clear. He had strong features and I could see by the way his suit hugged his arms that he worked out. I followed down the length of him, letting my hazel eyes soak all of him in. Nice Italian shoes rounded out the outfit. Okay yum.
The guy he was with was hunched over nursing a whiskey on ice. He didn’t look happy. Although equally attractive the sad guy just didn’t seem ready to have a good time. Just then, the sad guy looked up, his dark chestnut hair falling into his eyes. He had to be in his late twenties, his face seemed kinder, younger than the taller guy. Suddenly, he caught me staring at him and his whole face transformed. He went from sourpuss to a dazzling, white smile, with dimples to boot. Green eyes captured mine and for a moment I swear he looked familiar. Struck by how good looking these men were and how oddly familiar, the sad guy was, I just gawked at him, part of me struggling to place him, the other wanting see what it would be like to be the “cougar” woman.
After all, I was on the dark side of 35 and he couldn’t be more than 28 at most. His friend turned to see what he was grinning at and I was struck hard with the second-megawatt smile of the night. Jesus, was there a hot man convention in town? Without breaking eye contact with me, blue eyes sauntered toward me. Suddenly aware of my informal attire, I actually felt embarrassed. Normally my heeled boots, jeans and a tank top that said ‘Savage,' would not have made me feel odd. Not even the fact that my hair was in a ponytail and I had zero makeup on, nope, ordinarily I was in MY bar.
I mean, I knew the tank top stretched across my chest in all the right ways and the jeans made my butt look lifted and full. However, these guys were USDA grade choice and I probably looked like a freaking hooker. Shit Syn, I told myself. Pull it together, get in, get on, get off, get down, get him out…That was the rule, simple, easy. I needed to remember
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