Free Hustle Him (Bank Shot Romance #2) by Jennifer Foor Page A

battling demons and I wasn’t about to be the person who got him fired for drinking on the job. I held up my hands in the air. “You’re right! I don’t understand. Just sit back down and we don’t have to talk about it.”
    He shook his head and mumbled something before approaching the stool to sit back down. Unfortunately, he missed it and tumbled to the ground. Instinct sent me running around to help him. He was way too heavy for me to lift, so I grabbed onto his arms and guided him stand back up. He took his hands and grabbed both of my arms. “Jules?”
    “Who is…?” He didn’t give me time to ask.
    “Baby, I am so sorry. It’s all my fault. I miss you so much, baby. I miss our family. I can’t do this anymore.”
    I had no idea who Jules was, but he was obviously thinking she was me, because he pulled me into his arms and held me there as he continued to talk. I stilled my body and closed my eyes, not sure of what to do next. I wasn’t exactly scared of Ramsey, but since I knew nothing about him, I also knew that he could be a woman beater or maybe even worse. He didn’t just smell of booze. No, there was some kind of woodsy smelling cologne that I’d smelled before on him. He pulled my body even closer, shoving my face into his hard chest. “I just need another chance, Jules. I want it all back. Please, baby, don’t be dead. Say it was all a bad dream. Tell me it wasn’t real!”
    His words cut through my he art. He’d lost someone, possibly more than one person to death. This poor man was more broken than I could have ever imagined. My hands wrapped around his waist before I even knew I was doing it. “It’s going to be okay. You aren’t alone.”
    I could feel real tears hitting the top of my head as he kissed it. As absurd as the situation was to me, it was very real for him.  I didn’t want to pretend to be someone that I wasn’t, but I certainly didn’t want to piss the big guy off. After a few minutes, I was able to pull away. I got him sitting on the floor and ran to call my aunt.
    She told me to just lock up and drive Ramsey home. In the frantic situation I was in, I’d neglected to ask where the man lived. It was a feat getting him into his truck and finding his keys, which were actually left in the ignition, but driving around until he told me where to go was even worse.
    Finally, as he leaned against the passenger window, he led me up a long dirt road. It was scary and seemed like I was driving to a place to be raped and killed where I’d never be discovered. I stuck to my gut feeling and continued on until I came to a cabin in a clearing.
    Ramsey opened the passenger door and let me guide him into the house.
    The place was a mess. Take-out food boxes were sitting all over the tables and the sink was filled with silverware and cups. Ramsey disappeared into a back room and I was hoping that he passed out, finally.
    After I called my aunt and told her where to come, I hung up and looked around the cabin. The living and dining area had high ceilings that showed the original beams to the cabin, but a set of stairs with three doors above, told me there were other rooms.
    I walked into the kitchen and looked around at the exposed wood logs on all of the outside walls to the house. It gave it a country charm that I fell in love with. It wasn’t hard to find where Ramsey kept the trash bags. I grabbed one from under the sink and tossed all of the trash that was laying around into it. Then I washed dishes in the sink. While wiping down all of the tables, I heard a loud bang from the direction that Ramsey had gone.
    I found him on the floor with his shirt half on and stuck over his head. Quietly, I kneeled down beside him and helped with the shirt. Right away, my eyes had to do a double take. The man was sculpted, I’d already known that, but he had beautiful tattoos on each of his upper arms. He began mumbling something I couldn’t make out as I traced them with my fingers. The artwork