Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“Of course,” I say quickly.
“See? I’m not ready. One egg!”
“As in one of my eggs or the one your chicken laid?”
“I don’t know!” She throws her hands up in the air.
“Marly, there is no baby.” We’ve only been having sex for a week. I don’t think that’s even possible, but it has been a lot of sex. Marly’s shoulders drop.
“Really? Cause I could be like a cool aunt. Some cool aunts curse, and they let their niece or nephew do it too when the parents aren’t around.”
“You know how crazy you sound right now?”
“The cool, eccentric aunt that’s a bit quirky. That’s exactly what I’ll be.”
“If that’s what you want to call yourself, sure. We’ll go with that,” I agree.
“Is that sarcasm I hear in your voice?”
“No.” I shake my head, but I’m a terrible liar. Marly gives me a skeptical look. “There is no baby, Marly, I swear. For now, at least.” Not that I’m aware of anyway. I don’t add that part, though.
Jackson and I should probably get to the whole saying we love each other first. Oh, and let's not forget there is some psycho still trying to find me and do who knows what to me. The last thing I need to do is bring a baby into that. No matter how much I love the idea of Jackson and me creating one together.
CHAPTER 17
JACKSON
The minute the landing gear unfolds from the belly of the plane, I hop onto the internet and check the living room camera.
Bell is sitting behind her easel while Marly unpacks boxes. Christmas ornaments have piled up on the floor, but it’s nothing compared to the mass amount of art supplies, mostly paints, that are strewn about every surface. I didn’t realize there were that many different types of paint for an artist.
I press the intercom button. “I hope you know you can kick my sister out if she’s interrupting your peace.”
“Jackson, you jerk,” Marly shouts at the camera. “I’m a perfect companion, aren’t I, Bell?”
“She is,” agrees my woman.
“Blink if my sister is holding a gun out of view of the camera.”
Marly stomps over to the mantle where the camera is stationed and shakes a finger an inch away from the lens. When she gets closer, she cocks her head. “Are you on a plane?”
She must be able to hear the engine noise.
“Yeah. But I’ll be home tonight. It’s just a quick day trip. Take care of Marly for me,” I call to Bell. “She’s just a kid.”
“Hello. I’m 25. I passed the kid stage a long time ago.”
“You’re 25? So am I.” Bell pats her chest.
Marly makes a face at the camera. “If I am a child, then you’re a cradle robber.” She twirls and skips over to Bell’s side. Holding out a pinkie finger, she says, “Twinsies.”
Bell hooks her own finger around Marly’s. “Yes.”
I’m glad they can’t see the smug smile on my face. I’m pleased they are getting along. “It’s all about emotional maturity, not age. Move out of the way so I can say goodbye to my woman.”
Marly rolls her eyes but does get out of the screen. Bell sets down her brush and approaches the camera. “Bye. I miss you.” She tucks her hair behind her head shyly. My heart squeezes.
“I miss you, too. I’ll be home soon.”
“Are you going to tell me not to worry?”
“You shouldn’t worry. Your house has good security. You’re not alone. I’ll be back tonight. Plane’s landing. Gotta go.”
I close the security app and grab my bag out of the overhead bin. An hour later, a cab drops me off in front of a storefront with floor-to-ceiling glass windows and discreet black letters in the bottom corner that says Nina Townes Gallery.
If you didn’t know where to look, you would miss it. The door says By appointment only, and the security guard behind the glass narrows his eyes when I press the bell for access.
“Name?” he barks.
“Jackson Knight here to speak to Nina Townes about her artist Annabella Cane. I have some information about the stalker.”
The security guard looks confused but after speaking into his earpiece, he releases the security lock and lets me in.
“Wait here,” he orders.
“I’ll look at the art,” I say, and walk toward the west wall, where a large abstract painting filled with pastel brush strokes is hung.
“I said—”
“I heard you, but frankly, if you’re worried I’m going to run off with one of these giant wall hangings right under your nose, I’m worried about both your eyesight and your abilities.”
That shuts him up and pisses him off. His eyes promise that if we meet in a back alley, he’s going to tear into me. I roll my shoulders back. I haven’t been in a good fight in a minute. This might be fun.
Unfortunately, Nina shows up. Dressed in stereotypical all black with her hair pulled back, she looks a little like a strict headmaster at an all girls’ school—a fancy one, I’ll give her that.