The Unwanted (Black Water Tales Book 2) Read Online Free
Author: Jean Nicole Rivers
asked.
“What an adventure this is turning out to be.” Blaire’s hand caressed the side of the suitcase.
“Well, you know what goes great with camping?” Travis shifted his stance.
“Marshmallows?”
“Booze.”
“That too.” Blaire agreed as she hopped up.
CHAPTER THREE
T he crash of a bottle hitting a hard surface and shattering into hundreds of pieces was the sound that greeted them as they approached Berek’s Beer House. Artificial tangerine lighting served as a comforting contrast to the darkening street where shadows were beginning to play, hiding and seeking in and around the dismal alleyways and deserted buildings.
A few couples danced wildly on the makeshift dance floor created in the middle of the tavern when several tables were shifted to one side. Two open stools at the far end of the bar welcomed them. A couple of beers later and the world was not so bad looking to the United Care volunteers.
“Are there any hotels around here?” Travis asked the buxom, fair -haired bartender who leaned into him seductively before she answered with a smirk. “No. Sorry, no hotels in Borslav. We don’t get many tourists.”
“What time do you close?” Blaire asked.
“When there are no more customers,” she said in a bubbly tone that could make anything including directions to the bathroom sound overtly sexual.
“I’ll drink to that!” Travis held up his beer bottle to meet Blaire’s in a toast. “Shots,” he proposed abruptly.
Blaire erupted in a volcanic laughter that she had not heard from herself in years. Hung over and stinking of vodka was not the way she pictured herself showing up to her first day of volunteer work at the orphanage, but she also never pictured that she’d be sleeping in a bar the night before; inarguably, one justified the other.
Travis ordered two shots of vodka to celebrate the fact that they may not have to camp outside overnight after all. They may be forced to drink themselves into an acute coma, but even that sounded like a more inviting option than crashing on the streets of Borslav.
“Two vodka shooters!” the young blonde said, as she sat the two small glasses down in front of the foreigners.
“What’s your name anyway?” Travis asked.
“Vana,” the young woman said in a chocolate -covered voice that intrigued Travis. Blaire gave a furtive eye roll at the ease with which Vanaoozed sex.
“Vana,” the name rolled offTravis’ lips as he dramatized it with smoldering eyes. Then he held up his shot glass and pronounced, “Cheers.”
Immediately after slamming the shots, Blaire and Travis stared at one another as their throats closed with a forceful clench, their eyes filled with tears, and their chests felt the slow onset of raging wildfires.
“Whoa!” Travis cried out as he held the drained glass up to look at it in disbelief.
Blaire broke into a hideous laughter as she chased the foul liquid with her beer. Instantly, the vodka took effect, and they sat for several dazed moments listening to the music that came from the jukebox.
Finally, Travis spoke, “Tell me about yourself, Blaire Baker!”
Blaire took a deep breath. “Nothing much to tell, I grew up in a quaint little town called Black Water. I went to college for teaching because I want to make the world a better place, blah, blah, blah,” Blaire slurred on euphorically.
“Tell me more about this curse.” Travis’ fingers played in the condensation on his beer bottle.
Blaire grinned and seemed pleased that Travis wanted to know more about her. “It’s an old wives tale mostly, but they say that bad things happen there, and if you are unfortunate enough to be born there, you can never escape it.”
“Hell, bad things happen everywhere.”
“Tell me about it,” Blaire responded. “What about you?”
“What do you want to know?” Travis laughed as if there were too much to tell, but began explaining anyway. “Just started nursing. I grew up in the country on the
“What an adventure this is turning out to be.” Blaire’s hand caressed the side of the suitcase.
“Well, you know what goes great with camping?” Travis shifted his stance.
“Marshmallows?”
“Booze.”
“That too.” Blaire agreed as she hopped up.
CHAPTER THREE
T he crash of a bottle hitting a hard surface and shattering into hundreds of pieces was the sound that greeted them as they approached Berek’s Beer House. Artificial tangerine lighting served as a comforting contrast to the darkening street where shadows were beginning to play, hiding and seeking in and around the dismal alleyways and deserted buildings.
A few couples danced wildly on the makeshift dance floor created in the middle of the tavern when several tables were shifted to one side. Two open stools at the far end of the bar welcomed them. A couple of beers later and the world was not so bad looking to the United Care volunteers.
“Are there any hotels around here?” Travis asked the buxom, fair -haired bartender who leaned into him seductively before she answered with a smirk. “No. Sorry, no hotels in Borslav. We don’t get many tourists.”
“What time do you close?” Blaire asked.
“When there are no more customers,” she said in a bubbly tone that could make anything including directions to the bathroom sound overtly sexual.
“I’ll drink to that!” Travis held up his beer bottle to meet Blaire’s in a toast. “Shots,” he proposed abruptly.
Blaire erupted in a volcanic laughter that she had not heard from herself in years. Hung over and stinking of vodka was not the way she pictured herself showing up to her first day of volunteer work at the orphanage, but she also never pictured that she’d be sleeping in a bar the night before; inarguably, one justified the other.
Travis ordered two shots of vodka to celebrate the fact that they may not have to camp outside overnight after all. They may be forced to drink themselves into an acute coma, but even that sounded like a more inviting option than crashing on the streets of Borslav.
“Two vodka shooters!” the young blonde said, as she sat the two small glasses down in front of the foreigners.
“What’s your name anyway?” Travis asked.
“Vana,” the young woman said in a chocolate -covered voice that intrigued Travis. Blaire gave a furtive eye roll at the ease with which Vanaoozed sex.
“Vana,” the name rolled offTravis’ lips as he dramatized it with smoldering eyes. Then he held up his shot glass and pronounced, “Cheers.”
Immediately after slamming the shots, Blaire and Travis stared at one another as their throats closed with a forceful clench, their eyes filled with tears, and their chests felt the slow onset of raging wildfires.
“Whoa!” Travis cried out as he held the drained glass up to look at it in disbelief.
Blaire broke into a hideous laughter as she chased the foul liquid with her beer. Instantly, the vodka took effect, and they sat for several dazed moments listening to the music that came from the jukebox.
Finally, Travis spoke, “Tell me about yourself, Blaire Baker!”
Blaire took a deep breath. “Nothing much to tell, I grew up in a quaint little town called Black Water. I went to college for teaching because I want to make the world a better place, blah, blah, blah,” Blaire slurred on euphorically.
“Tell me more about this curse.” Travis’ fingers played in the condensation on his beer bottle.
Blaire grinned and seemed pleased that Travis wanted to know more about her. “It’s an old wives tale mostly, but they say that bad things happen there, and if you are unfortunate enough to be born there, you can never escape it.”
“Hell, bad things happen everywhere.”
“Tell me about it,” Blaire responded. “What about you?”
“What do you want to know?” Travis laughed as if there were too much to tell, but began explaining anyway. “Just started nursing. I grew up in the country on the
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