Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 72669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I wanted to yell at him, but he was too fucking good.
When he spoke, it was hard not to listen.
“This’ll never work,” I waved my hands around desperately.
And it might not.
Carlos was right, we did fight a lot.
And I was on a sinking ship.
When all that was Booth finally took me under, I’d be forever his again.
And maybe I wasn’t ready for that. Maybe he was going to ruin me for good this time.
I couldn’t risk losing him again.
I’d barely survived it the first time.
Now I was older, and I knew what I was missing if it didn’t work out.
If he left me because I said something stupid, which I knew I would, then I’d be broken.
Never to be repaired again.
“Mase,” Booth’s soft voice said. “What happened?”
“You and me,” I pointed at him with one finger, and myself with the other. “We’ll never work,” I repeated.
He laughed behind me, pissing me off even further.
“Honey,” he drawled seductively. “That’s what we do. We fight. Then we make up. That’s the best part, remember?”
I shivered as those words slid down my spine.
“Yes,” I turned. “But what if one day we can’t do that anymore. What if one day you don’t think of me like that anymore.”
He chuckled.
“Oh, you’re reaching,” he goaded.
I was.
I was losing the battle, and I couldn’t say I minded.
“You piss me off,” I sneered.
He snorted and pressed his lips to my neck, right along my spine.
“You piss me off, too, darlin’,” he agreed. “But that’s what we do, piss each other off. Then the next minute we’ll be laughing about what we had for dinner the night before. That’s just us. You and me. Crazy and crazier. I love you, so that’s all that matters here. What do you think of that?”
I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forearm which was crossed across my chest.
“I love you, too,” I said, lifting his shirt from his pants, then pressing my cold beer against him.
He laughed and shied away from me, finally giving me access to the truck.
“You’re putting a lot of miles on my truck,” he accused.
I shrugged as I climbed inside.
“You were the one who gave it to me,” I countered.
He grinned.
“I sure did, didn’t I?” His eyes were lit with humor.
I started the truck up and started backing out of the parking lot, being sure to wave at the truck full of firefighters that didn’t have the decency to look away as Booth and I fought.
They waved back, and I drove home in silence, letting my mind roam over what Booth had said.
And I knew he was right.
I just got cold toes.
But they were nice and toasty now, along with certain other parts of my body.
Chapter 18
Surround yourself with people who run towards gunfire, they will not disappoint you when shit hits the fan.
-T-shirt
Booth
“This is the man that’s destroying her parent’s mailbox,” I said, handing Luke a picture I’d printed off at home.
He took it and studied it, then flipped through the next four I’d placed on his desk.
“When were these taken?” He looked up at me questioningly.
“I wrote the times down on the back, my printer decided it wanted to cut the times and dates off,” I said, pointing to the back.
“Got it,” he placed them on his desk. “Without catching the guy doing it, or having actual proof of who he is, there’s nothing we can really do. We don’t have the manpower to spare, and if all he’s doing is destroying a mailbox, then we have bigger fish to fry.”
I sighed.
That was what I was afraid he would say.
“I knew you were going to say that,” I groaned in exasperation. “But how many mailboxes do they have to beat up before they do become important?”
If Masen’s estimations were correct, then they’d spend over five grand on mailboxes over the last five years it’d been going on.
“Isn’t this a federal crime?” I asked when Luke sighed.
He shrugged.
“Yes and no. It is a federal crime to fuck with people’s mail, but they usually reserve getting involved when it’s something such as stealing mail and using the checks and such,” Luke explained. “This wouldn’t even rank on their radar if they’re still getting all their mail. Most likely it’s just a stupid punk kid who gets his jollies off destroying the same mailbox.”
I didn’t say anything.
“You know,” I said. “I’m not going to let this keep happening. If you don’t do something about it, I will.”
Luke grimaced.
“My hands are tied here, Booth,” Luke apologized. “Until it escalates beyond pettiness, I’m not going to be able to do anything. Let me know if anything changes, though.”
He handed the pictures back to me, but I waved them off. “Keep them.”
He placed them down on his desk and nodded at me.
“Watch yourself,” he warned. “You may have experience, but sometimes that hurts more than it helps with a judge.”