Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
“You bet your bippy we are,” Luna put in.
They gave me a collective glare, and as if they practiced it, they all turned in unison and stormed out.
Luna was the last one through the door, and she slammed it.
“We really need to lock that door,” Eric murmured.
I turned to him to find he was, indeed, right there.
I couldn’t deal with his proximity right then.
I also couldn’t deal with the subtle hints of rosemary and cedarwood wafting my way, a fragrance that had already become an aromatic touchstone to me.
I had other shit to deal with.
“First, they all have keys. Second, I can’t have them tramping around Phoenix trying to find Jeff and scaring him off or undoing the work I’ve been doing for the last six months to get people who might see him to trust me.”
“Talk to them. Tell them that.”
“Did you just experience what I experienced?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think they’re gonna listen?”
He bit his lip in thought.
I thought about how awesome it would be to bite his lip.
Then he answered, “No.”
Once again, my body moved without my mind’s permission, and this time it did it to plant my forehead on his chest.
He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck.
That was warm and reassuring too.
Gah!
“They did find fourteen women, Jessie,” he said gently. “If you’re not down with letting me and the men help, maybe they can.”
“It’s clean,” I said quietly.
“Pardon?”
I lifted my head to look at him, but he didn’t take his hand away.
“The black and white. It’s clean. It’s not like I don’t like color. I do. But I need clean around me. Uncluttered. Uncomplicated.”
“Controlled,” he murmured.
I nodded.
He got it.
“Wild stab,” he began. “They don’t know about your family situation.”
I shook my head.
“Do you wanna tell me why?”
“You’ve laid it all out for me today, and I don’t want to be a bitch and not reciprocate that, but honestly, I’m not really sure why.”
“Could it be that you seem totally with it, and you actually are, but if you let it out how fucked up growing up was for you, it might be a hit to your cred as a together woman who has it going on?”
He thought I was a together woman who had it going on?
Shit, I was feeling gooey again.
“Maybe,” I conceded.
“They’re your friends and they won’t think anything less of you knowing who you really are. And Jess, you keeping it from them is hiding who you are.”
One thing was clear about our most recent intrusion.
I was hiding.
“Our ice cream is melting,” I evaded.
“It is,” he said.
But he didn’t shift away so I could finish the coffees. He wrapped both his big hands around the sides of my neck and dipped his face to mine.
And he kept going.
“Even as shit as it was, your family helped make you. You didn’t bow. You certainly didn’t break. You became this hip woman with a great apartment, friends who’d go to the mat for her, and neighbors who turn to her in need because you don’t hesitate a second to give them what they need. They show because they know that’s what you’ll do. I don’t know it all. I know your brother is missing. I know you reported it to the police. I’ve read the reports of the cops’ visits with your mom and dad about that situation, and I read between the lines at the responses they gave to law enforcement. And I know a lot of people who have two parents who’d give zero shits their schizophrenic son is off his meds and on the streets of Phoenix who would not become the woman you are.”
I ignored the glow he created inside me with some (okay, most) of his words and focused on others.
“It was you who gave the flour to Alexis.”
“It was you who listened to her when she needed to unload, and encouraged her when she needed someone to remind her to keep her chin up. The flour was incidental. She needed a friend, and that was what you gave her.”
He was being awesome.
Or, more awesome.
Therefore, I couldn’t handle this.
“Can we eat more crumble so I can alternately concentrate on not puking at the same time marvel at James Cameron’s moviemaking chops?” I requested. “Because I feel the need to remind you, it’s No-Fucks-to-Giving, and it seems to me you’re giving a few fucks.”
The pads of his fingers pressed into my skin a beat before he sighed and dropped his hands.
“Back to no fucks given,” he muttered mildly irritably.
“Thank you,” I pushed out, fighting sagging with relief.
“I take a splash of cream, no sugar,” he ordered.
“Gotcha.” I moved to the coffee.
“Jess?”
I turned to him, liking my name on his tongue.
Damn.
“Your family doesn’t reflect on you.”
I started to say something, perhaps tell him how wrong he was, but he held up a hand, so I stopped.