Always Yours (Whiskey Men #5) Read Online Hope Ford

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Chick Lit, Erotic Tags Authors: Series: Whiskey Men Series by Hope Ford
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Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
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For just a second, I feel the guilt of not answering the door. It’s probably my elderly neighbor, and she’s probably just wanting to check on me and make sure I’m doing okay, but I just sat down, and I really don’t want to get back up.

Knock. Knock. This time it’s louder, and just a few seconds go by, and I hear Austin’s voice on the other side. “Ally, I know you’re in there. Open up.”

My head jerks up so fast I get a little dizzy. What is Austin doing here? He never comes to the trailer park.

I want to ignore him, but I know there’s no use. He’s not leaving until he talks to me. “I’m coming,” I holler.

I set my feet on the floor and then struggle to get up just as Austin knocks again. I get to the door and jerk it open. “Really? Hold your horses, Austin. I’m a lot slower than I used to be, so take a chill. I mean, I know it’s a lot to ask for Austin Blaze to have a little patience, but you should try it just once.”

For just a second, it looks as if I’ve hurt his feelings, but he hides it quickly enough. “Hello to you, too. Can I come in?”

He’s gesturing to the grocery bags in his arms and to my house, and I pull the door a little to block his view. “Look, now is not a good time. I just got home, and I’m wanting to rest.”

He puts his boot out to block me from closing the door. “Nice try. Let me in. I’m not leaving, Ally.”

I lean my head back to look him in the face. “What are you even doing here, Austin? You never come to the trailer park.”

His jaw tightens. “First of all, you act like I avoid this place, and I don’t. You know I don’t care where you live, not like you’re meaning. And second of all, the reason I never come is because you’re not comfortable having me here, but that’s all changing right now.”

When I don’t budge, he lifts the bags in his arms a little higher. “Look, let me put these down in the kitchen. Then I have dinner in the car I need to bring in. Then we can talk, and if you demand I leave, I will.”

I blurt out a laugh. “Yeah, right. I know you, Austin Blaze, and you’re not going to leave just because I tell you to. Second of all, what kind of dinner do you have in the car?”

He shifts the bags in his arms again, but I don’t feel sorry for him because he can easily carry these bags while running a 5K and wouldn’t even lose his breath. He’s that in shape. He shakes his head side to side and smirks at me. “Really? You don’t know what I would bring you to eat?”

I try to hide the excitement on my face, but I know I’m not successful. “Did you bring me a chicken ranch wrap?”

He nods. “With extra pickles on the side.”

I groan and open the door, reaching for the bags in his arms. “Here, I’ll grab these. You go get my food.”

He pulls the bags back. “Really?” he says with a laugh.

I move to the side and gesture for him to come in. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I know Austin, and there’s no way he’s going to let me carry anything. Before I was pregnant, he never let me lift a finger when we hung out together. Since I got pregnant, I’m lucky he lets me walk on my own two feet. I shouldn’t be bothered with it, but I am. I can’t help but feel guilty because I know it’s not his place to take care of me, but every time I try to tell him that, he disagrees with me.

He walks into my small single-wide trailer, and I keep my eyes focused on him. It’s either that or I know I’m going to look around at the barely furnished living room, the peeling paint on the kitchen walls, or the cabinet doors that are hanging on their hinges.

He sets the bags down and then comes straight for me. “Have a seat.”

His hand goes to my lower back, and he walks with me to the couch. “Austin, what about my food?”

He laughs. “I’m going to get you situated and then I’m going to go get your food.”

He helps me onto the couch, and I shift to avoid the broken spring that is poking in my back. He puts a pillow on the coffee table and then picks my feet off the floor and gently lays them on the pillow. “All right, stay put. I’ll be right back.”

He gets to the door before I am able to collect myself. “I’m not a dog. You can’t just give me orders and expect me to do as you say.”


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