Chasing Wild (The Wilds of Montana #2) Read Online Kristen Proby

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Wilds of Montana Series by Kristen Proby
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
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“I have to go.” Summer sips the mug of coffee I just passed to her. “I have to change and get ready for work.”

I sip my own brew. “It’s barely six.”

“Yeah, well, I’m usually at the shop by now, but I admit, I slept well, and a handsome man did some delicious things to me when I woke up, so I’m not complaining.”

I grin and reach out to brush my thumb under her eye. “You’re sweet. Maybe we should both call in sick and stay here, naked and rumpled, all day.”

“Don’t tempt me.” She chuckles and looks down at Lily, who’s been watching us with sleepy eyes. “Are you ready to go home?”

Lily turns in a circle.

“Here.” I take the mug out of her hands and watch as she scowls at me. “Don’t punch me; I’m putting this in a disposable cup.”

“I thought I was going to have to maim you there for a second.”

I snap the lid on and pass it back to her. “No need for that. I’ll help you out to the car. And, in case you ever need to get in here, the code to the door is 5391.”

“Is this the equivalent of you giving me a key to the house?” she asks.

“Pretty much.”

Carrying Lily’s bag of goodies, I follow Summer down to her vehicle, and once she has it loaded, and Lily in the front seat, I pull her in and hug her close.

“I’ll bring you lunch.”

She chuckles against my chest. “I won’t even attempt to tell you that it’s not necessary. I’d like to see you later today.”

“And tonight?”

She tips her head back so she can smile up at me. “What are you thinking?”

“I think it’s time I made good on my promise to take you to Ciao for dinner.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m down for that.”

“Good.” I kiss her nose, and she pulls away to walk around and get into her car. “I’ll see you later.”

She blows me a kiss, and then she’s gone. Rubbing the back of my neck and wishing for the rest of my coffee, I walk back inside and lock the door behind me. The house already feels empty without them, which is a little ridiculous to me, given that they were only here for one night.

But that’s all it took.

It doesn’t take me long to shower, drink two cups of coffee, and dress for work. I’ll change into my uniform at the station, so I always try to get there twenty minutes before my shift starts.

It’s quiet in Bitterroot Valley this morning as I drive through town. And that’s just the way I like it. The station is quiet as I walk through to the locker room, and I go through the motions of changing into my uniform and checking everything on my belt. Then, I move to the weapons vault to choose the weapons that I’ll have on me and in my vehicle.

And once I’m in the car, ready for my shift, I get a call first thing.

“Mrs. Wilburn is holding up traffic again,” I’m told. “She’s ten miles outside of town, doing twenty-five in a seventy, with at least a dozen cars behind her.”

“I’m on my way.”

Mrs. Wilburn has to be at least eighty, and she likely shouldn’t have her license anymore. She refuses to drive over twenty-five miles per hour, regardless of where she is, and she’s become a pain in my ass.

With my lights flashing, it doesn’t take too long to find her, and when the other drivers pull over to make room for me, I turn around on the highway and get behind the old woman, turning on my siren.

Like a good citizen, she pulls over onto the shoulder, and the drivers that she was holding up pick up speed, waving at me with gratitude as they pass by.

I walk on the inside of the shoulder and knock on her passenger window.

“Hello, dear,” she says when she rolls it down. “What’s wrong? Are you looking for a fugitive? I don’t think I saw anyone out here, but I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“No, ma’am, we had another complaint about your speed.”

“Oh.” She frowns. “I’m sorry. Sometimes my foot just gets away from me, and I go too fast.”

“No.” I laugh now and shake my head. “You go too slow, Mrs. Wilburn. You can’t go twenty-five in a seventy. It’s not safe.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone complaining about someone going too slow. Why, I’m just being safe.”

“No, actually, like I said, it’s not safe. I have to give you a ticket this time, ma’am.”

“For going slower than the speed limit? That’s ridiculous. I’ll call your mother, Chase Wild.”

“And I’m sure she’d love to speak with you, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have to write you a ticket for reckless driving. You’re considered a hazard on the road.”


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