Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“You work nights,” he says as if I need to be reminded that I haven’t been living off energy drinks and coffee for the last year since getting my job.
I roll my eyes at him, once again acting like Kason before I can stop myself.
“And you leave after they go to bed and get home before they wake up, right?”
“Yes, Finnegan.”
“Finn,” he corrects.
I scowl at him. Calling him by the shortened version of his name brings on a familiarity that will only end up causing problems down the road. Stubbornly, I just can’t do it.
“Finn,” he repeats.
“Were you trying to make a point or is your goal just to get on my nerves?”
Instead of responding negatively to my insistence on being a pain in the ass and rude, he gives me a wide smile, as if he likes my attitude problem.
I continue to glare because I’m stressed and thinking about him adjusting that attitude in ways I’m sure we would both enjoy will only leave me flat on my back or pinned to the wall by his enormous body.
I brush my hands over the goosebumps those thoughts bring on.
“My point, you feisty little thing, is that I’ll be here while they’re sleeping. There’s no need for you to waste money on hiring anyone else.”
I immediately shake my head at his offer. “You just sat there and watched Kason climb the cabinets this morning.”
“Does he do that a lot in his sleep?” His brows draw together.
I scoff. “No, he doesn’t, but—”
“But nothing,” he interrupts. “You’ll be able to save money faster if you don’t have to pay someone to literally just be in the condo with them while you work.”
So you can move out quicker goes unsaid, and although that makes me feel some kind of way, I can’t really argue with the man.
“You’d do that?”
“It’s not really a challenge, unless they have issues at night.”
“They’re sound sleepers, and barring any emergencies, you won’t even have to see them.”
“Then it’s settled,” he says as he stands. “I’ll look after them.”
I open my mouth to argue with him, but he pulls his t-shirt up and off before walking toward the hall.
“Going to get a shower then get to work.”
My mouth is hanging open as I watch his back muscles flex all the way down the hall to his room.
I may have one problem solved, but he’s creating new ones every single damn time I see him without a shirt.
Chapter 14
Finnegan
“I’ve left my cell phone number on the kitchen counter,” she says, her words a little weird with the way she’s holding her mouth to apply dark lines to her eyelid. “I want you to call me if there’s any trouble.”
“I will,” I promise because I plan to. I don’t know what constitutes one of those emergencies she mentioned last night, but as far as I’m concerned, that could be anything.
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I get lost for a second in just how gorgeous she is. I’ve stood here for the last fifteen minutes while she applies her makeup, wondering why in the world she’s even bothering with it. Her eyes are bright blue, her hair a lush, blond hanging in waves around her shoulders, but she was just as beautiful right out of the shower as well.
Her children have been asleep for nearly an hour, and despite the chaos filling the condo after they got home from school, I found myself smiling. Watching her get them through homework and dinner was akin to watching a cat herder, but she did it mostly with a smile on her face.
“Okay,” she says, giving herself one final onceover in the mirror before turning around to face me. “Wish me luck.”
“You need luck?” I take a step back, moving out of the doorway when she inches closer. If she so much as brushes against me, she won’t be making her shift at the diner she works at.
“I need lots of tips.”
I look down at her clothes, the jeans and t-shirt not doing much for her body, but I grin at that, hating the thought of her wearing something as tight as her gym clothes so truckers will hand over more of their hard-earned cash.
“What?” she asks, looking down. “My uniform is at work.”
I want to frown, but I manage a flat-lipped look instead.
“I get off at three. Should be home by three-twenty at the latest.”
She’s a grown woman, but I absolutely hate the thought of her driving so late at night. People are leaving the bars at that time, meaning there are more drunk drivers on the road, but I don’t really have the right to chastise her work choices. I can tell just by the way she worries and how she interacts with her kids that she’s doing the best she can with the hand she’s been dealt. The last thing she needs is another person judging her. She’s got enough of that to last a lifetime with just one look from that old lady yesterday.