Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
Brody had realized a long time ago that he was a Middle. Although sometimes he regressed to a younger age when he was stressed.
He wasn’t good with people, preferring to interact with his friends online than with any in real life. He had the guys at Callahan Security. But most of them weren’t like him. They were all Doms, while he was the only sub.
Mostly, he was just awkward and shy and found it hard to know what to say without annoying someone.
So it was surprising how protective he felt toward her. Although, maybe it was because he’d spent so much time researching her.
Which he shouldn’t tell her about. He didn’t want to piss her off.
Seemed like she might have a slight temper. That juice box had been seconds away from feeling her wrath.
Glancing around, he spotted her gaming system under the television that was mounted on the wall.
“You like to game?”
“What? Oh yes, sometimes.”
“You ever play Rocky?”
“Oh yes, that’s my favorite. You play?”
“Sure do. I’m on level thirty-two.”
“No way! I can’t get past the dragon to get to that level.” She pouted.
“I could maybe help you if you want to meet up. Online, I mean. On the game. Or something like that . . . not that I can’t meet you in person, that is.”
Darn. Why was he so bad at this?
“That sounds nice. I could . . . I could use a friend.”
He cringed. Right. A friend.
“I’m not . . . something bad happened to me a while ago, and I’m not ready for anything more than a friend yet.”
Son of a goat. He was an idiot. More so, because he knew exactly what had happened to her. He had no right to feel this way. To be upset because she only wanted a friend.
“I know.”
“What?” Her eyes met his. “You . . . you know?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m here.”
She jumped to her feet, wincing as she obviously put too much weight on her ankle. “Why you’re here? What do you mean? I thought you worked for a security company and you were investigating the money. What does any of that have to do with what happened to me? Unless this was all a lie. Are you a reporter or something?”
He got to his feet, holding his hands out as she grew pale, her breath coming in rapid pants. Shoot. Was she about to have a panic attack?
“Do you have a paper bag?”
“Huh?”
“I usually carry one with me, but I left it at home.”
“Why . . . why would I want a paper bag?”
“For your panic attack.”
She rubbed at her chest. “What . . . how . . .”
“I have them sometimes. Usually if I see a spider. I hate spiders. A paper bag helps. Do you have one?”
“I . . . I . . . bottom drawer. Kitchen. By . . . oven.”
He raced into her kitchen, returning to find her on the sofa. Sitting on the coffee table, he opened the bag and then cinched it around the opening so it could fit over her mouth.
“Here. It will help.”
“My chest. My heart. Racing.”
“I know,” he said with sympathy. “Just take some nice, slow breaths.” He held the bag up and she started to breathe into it, her gaze hitting his.
Say something soothing, idiot.
“I once saw this really huge hairy spider. I swear that thing was bigger than my hand. After screaming really loudly, I ran outside only to realize that all I was wearing was my boxers and I didn’t have my key. And yep, the door locked behind me. So, I was stuck outside in just my boxers, with no keys, no phone, and no money. Me on one side of the door, the giant spider on the other.”
That wasn’t his finest moment.
She dropped the paper bag. “What did you do?”
Gently, he pushed the bag back up to her mouth. “Keep breathing. I had to go down to the building manager and get them to open my apartment. Then I had to call someone to come take care of the spider.”
The bag dropped again. “Like an exterminator?”
“Urgh, more like my sister, Lissy. She lived close by and was the least likely of all my sisters to give me hell. Unfortunately, Jodie, my other sister, was with her. They still like to bring up that story every Christmas.”
She grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Spiders are my nemesis.”
“So, you’re not a Spiderman fan?”
He held up his hands. “Hey, now. That’s completely different. He only does what a spider does. He’s not an actual spider.”
She grinned.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes. Sorry.” Her gaze dropped, her shoulders sagging.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. Or embarrassed. If anyone should be sorry, it should be me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the one that made you have a panic attack.” He grimaced. “I tend to just blurt stuff out without thinking. Sorry. My sisters are always telling me I need to get a filter.”