Read Online Single Lady Spy 01 - The End of Me by Tara Brown - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tara Brown
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wrist. I snorted as I gave it to him. He shook the salt on it and handed me the shot. He did the same on his wrist and held his shot out, "To your mom and kids arriving safe and staying that way."
I muttered, "Cheers."
He clanked our shot classes together and gave me a mischievous look.
"Stop trying to be nice to me. I have seen the real you," I snarled and licked the salt the same time as him. I shot back the tequila and grabbed a lemon from the plate. I sucked the juice as he did. He reached over and wrapped his empty hand around mine, holding the empty shot glass, "I am nice."
I gulped.
The lonely corner we sat in, with our shots and lemons, seemed darker suddenly, matching the gloomy day outside. He took my glass from my fingers and poured us each another shot, and passed me the glass back. I licked my wrist and held it out for him to pour more salt on.
He held his drink up again, "To James, may he rest in peace." His eyes twinkled. I grinned and nodded, "And Mel. May they be at rest together, happily. "
He half smirked, lifting only his upper lip on only the right side. He licked his lips and I tried not to notice how plump they were. Or how he had the subtlest cleft in his chin. Or the way his pulse beat rhythmically in his thick neck. It was like neck porn. I licked my wrist and sucked back the drink. I grabbed the lemon and sucked, all while watching the neck porn.
I needed a nap and to be away from him. He was jailbait and he called me a cougar, and I was an emotional wreck who was about to make a poor choice out of grief. I jumped up and shook my head from the two shots.
"Thanks," I walked past him and up the stairs.
"No prob," he muttered.
I curled up in my bed and slept, until he woke me with a shout from the bottom of the stairs.
I jumped up and pulled on a casual outfit. I didn’t even look at myself. When I met him at the door, he gave me a disapproving once over.
“What?”
He cocked an eyebrow, “Is that really what you want to wear?”
I growled, “I’m a grieving widow, ass.”
He put his hands up in the air, "Alright fine; let’s sort this out then. I'm your cabby. Meet you out front in two." He nodded all snarly again and vanished. I looked at the foyer and crossed my arms around myself.
How had it all happened? How had it gone so wrong? How could James die, or even worse, fake his own death and abandon us?
I waited the two minutes and walked out the front door.
He sat in the same cab as the night before. I climbed in and looked down.
He spoke as he backed up, not looking at me, "He's going to talk to you and ask you questions, and you are going to have to seem like a devastated widow who knows shit all." He drove like a maniac and dropped me off at the lobby without saying much, "Be safe. I'm nearby, okay?"
"No last advice?" I gulped.
He shook his head, "Say yes to everything."
I scowled at him and closed the door. What was the everything?
"Good evening, ma'am," the bellhop said and opened the door. I looked up and walked across the lobby, wondering how many hotels I would be entering if this continued. They would start thinking I was a nearly middle-aged hooker, if I kept coming back and visiting hotel rooms. I glanced at myself in the mirror I passed and felt a little better. At least I didn’t look nearly middle aged or like any hooker I'd ever seen. Whose fantasy was to have their mom show up in their hotel? Maybe I could nag them to pick up their clothes and wash their faces.
The bellboy was a young man with an infectious smile. He nodded at me as the elevator opened, "What floor?"
I smiled back, ignoring the fire in my stomach and stepped inside, "The presidential suite please."
He gave me the up-down and smirk, "Yes, Ma'am." I could have pulled off my sports bra and choked his little ass.
I sighed, partly because everyone had been calling me Ma'am lately, and partly because, I knew I would never get my sports bra off fast enough. The thing was a death trap.
The
I muttered, "Cheers."
He clanked our shot classes together and gave me a mischievous look.
"Stop trying to be nice to me. I have seen the real you," I snarled and licked the salt the same time as him. I shot back the tequila and grabbed a lemon from the plate. I sucked the juice as he did. He reached over and wrapped his empty hand around mine, holding the empty shot glass, "I am nice."
I gulped.
The lonely corner we sat in, with our shots and lemons, seemed darker suddenly, matching the gloomy day outside. He took my glass from my fingers and poured us each another shot, and passed me the glass back. I licked my wrist and held it out for him to pour more salt on.
He held his drink up again, "To James, may he rest in peace." His eyes twinkled. I grinned and nodded, "And Mel. May they be at rest together, happily. "
He half smirked, lifting only his upper lip on only the right side. He licked his lips and I tried not to notice how plump they were. Or how he had the subtlest cleft in his chin. Or the way his pulse beat rhythmically in his thick neck. It was like neck porn. I licked my wrist and sucked back the drink. I grabbed the lemon and sucked, all while watching the neck porn.
I needed a nap and to be away from him. He was jailbait and he called me a cougar, and I was an emotional wreck who was about to make a poor choice out of grief. I jumped up and shook my head from the two shots.
"Thanks," I walked past him and up the stairs.
"No prob," he muttered.
I curled up in my bed and slept, until he woke me with a shout from the bottom of the stairs.
I jumped up and pulled on a casual outfit. I didn’t even look at myself. When I met him at the door, he gave me a disapproving once over.
“What?”
He cocked an eyebrow, “Is that really what you want to wear?”
I growled, “I’m a grieving widow, ass.”
He put his hands up in the air, "Alright fine; let’s sort this out then. I'm your cabby. Meet you out front in two." He nodded all snarly again and vanished. I looked at the foyer and crossed my arms around myself.
How had it all happened? How had it gone so wrong? How could James die, or even worse, fake his own death and abandon us?
I waited the two minutes and walked out the front door.
He sat in the same cab as the night before. I climbed in and looked down.
He spoke as he backed up, not looking at me, "He's going to talk to you and ask you questions, and you are going to have to seem like a devastated widow who knows shit all." He drove like a maniac and dropped me off at the lobby without saying much, "Be safe. I'm nearby, okay?"
"No last advice?" I gulped.
He shook his head, "Say yes to everything."
I scowled at him and closed the door. What was the everything?
"Good evening, ma'am," the bellhop said and opened the door. I looked up and walked across the lobby, wondering how many hotels I would be entering if this continued. They would start thinking I was a nearly middle-aged hooker, if I kept coming back and visiting hotel rooms. I glanced at myself in the mirror I passed and felt a little better. At least I didn’t look nearly middle aged or like any hooker I'd ever seen. Whose fantasy was to have their mom show up in their hotel? Maybe I could nag them to pick up their clothes and wash their faces.
The bellboy was a young man with an infectious smile. He nodded at me as the elevator opened, "What floor?"
I smiled back, ignoring the fire in my stomach and stepped inside, "The presidential suite please."
He gave me the up-down and smirk, "Yes, Ma'am." I could have pulled off my sports bra and choked his little ass.
I sighed, partly because everyone had been calling me Ma'am lately, and partly because, I knew I would never get my sports bra off fast enough. The thing was a death trap.
The
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