Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 118693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
“Like who?” Rory asked.
My body tensed.
“No firefighters, baby. You know my rules. Now, I’ve got to run. Should I tell your mother dinner on Thursday?”
“I’ll check my schedule and call one of you guys.”
“Sounds good, sweetheart.”
Captain Adams’s voice grew distant as he kept talking. “Get home and rest!”
“I will,” Rory called out. “Bye, Daddy!”
Waiting in silence, I thought back to what Rory’s dad had said seconds ago. How long would we have to keep this a secret from him? If he found out about us, what would it do to their relationship, with him knowing his daughter had done the exact opposite of what he wanted?
I was too damn greedy to care. I had a taste of Rory Adams, and I wanted more.
So. Much. More.
“He’s gone, Finn. You can come out now.”
I stood and pushed my way through the bushes. I stopped when I saw her standing there, staring in the direction her father had run. Her normally confident posture was slumped over as she dragged in a long breath and forced it out. “He’s never going to accept the fact that I’m dating a firefighter. Ever.”
My heart slammed against my chest. I dropped my head and sighed. Looking back up at her, I went to say something, but my eyes were drawn to all the ants coming out of the bag.
“Hey, Rory. You might want to drop that bag.”
She lifted it and asked, “Why?”
That’s when she screamed. And then threw the bag up in the air, letting all the peanuts escape and fall everywhere around her.
“Are they in my hair! Ohmygod! Are they in my hair?”
Her arms flailed in every direction. I wouldn’t have thought arms could move like that. “Get them off! I feel them crawling on me.”
The cries for help and the movement of her arms must have been a bird call, because before I could even take a step to help her, pigeons swarmed in and started going after the peanuts. Even the ones in her hair were fair game.
Short bursts of screams came forth from her mouth as she ran in every possible direction to get away from the pigeons.
“Pigeons! They’re trying to eat me! Help!”
It only took about thirty seconds for the shock of what was happening to wear off and for me to rush in to save her. I picked her up in my arms and started off toward my condo. Rory had a death grip around my neck as she continued to scream for help. In my ear.
“Rory! You’re going to call your dad back, or worse yet, someone is going to think I’m trying to eat you!”
Burying her face in my chest, she started crying. “I feel ants on me, and I think a bird pooped in my hair! Pigeons hate me, Finn. They always have!” she sobbed.
Laughing, I picked up the pace, leaving the ants and the pigeons behind with the peanuts.
My chest squeezed as she sobbed into my neck, holding on to me like I was the only thing that could protect her. I cherished every second of it. “I promise I won’t let them get you.”
Rory slowly walked into the kitchen and flashed me a shy smile.
“I think I got all the ants off of me.”
I lifted a brow. “Bird poop?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t see any.”
Her body shuddered.
Suppressing a chuckle, I asked, “What was that all about back there? The whole pigeons-hate-me thing.”
Her face turned white, and I really had to work hard at not laughing. “They do. All birds hate me. It’s like I have some weird energy field that they don’t like. They tend to leave me alone, but if I have any food in my hand, they are all over me trying to take what’s theirs. It all started when I was five. All I wanted to do was feed the pigeons some bread. They swarmed me and separated me from my mom. I was pretty sure if there had been enough of them, they would have picked me up and taken me back to their lair.”
I chuckled. “I believe that’s where dragons live, not pigeons.”
“Well, they would have taken me to wherever pigeons live and lived off of my flesh for days.”
Was it possible to fall even harder for the woman standing in front of me?
Sitting down at the counter, she rested her hand on her chin. “Is our date over?”
“Do you want it to be over?”
“No.”
“Then it’s not. How do you feel about roller skating?”
She laughed and then looked at me with a serious face. “Wait. You’re serious?”
“Hell yes, I’m serious.”
With a wrinkled-up nose, she answered, “Well, I haven’t done it since I was probably ten or so. I probably forgot how.”
Making my way over to her, I lifted her off the stool and brought her flush against my body.
“It’s like riding a bike, baby. Once you’ve done it, you pick it right back up.”