Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Is there an issue I need to know about?” I ask the security guard outside the front door. Fletcher has guards at the entrances to the ranch but never on his front porch.
“I’m watching Miss Ellington,” he says.
“Indiana?”
He nods.
“Well, her name is no longer Miss Ellington, and I’m here, so you’re dismissed.”
“Mr. Ellington is under the weather and decided to turn in early. I’ve been instructed to stay until your wife returns.”
“I’m here. You’re dismissed.”
“Sorry, Mr. Odell. I’ve been instructed to leave only when your wife gets home.”
With gritted teeth, I give him a tight smile, taking a step closer.
When his hand inches toward his holstered gun, I shove the barrel of my pistol into his neck just below his chin like it's taking his pulse. He stiffens. I retrieve his gun.
The grin on my face swells a bit. “The old man barking orders from a wheelchair can’t hold his hand steady enough to pull his dick from his trousers. My hand is steady and faster than yours. Go home. I’ll return your gun tomorrow. Understood?”
He swallows before relinquishing a slight nod.
Taking two steps back, I holster my gun and shove his gun into the waist of my jeans.
“He’s not going to live much longer. When he’s gone, guess who will sign your paychecks?”
“You, sir.”
I don’t blink until he averts his gaze, a silent surrender. Bowing his head, he scuffs his boots along the paved walk. When I hear his truck’s engine fading behind me, I bang the dirt off my boots and open the door.
“No, Milo.” Jolene is here.
Fletcher’s guard is clueless.
“You’re a mess. And you smell like manure. Why didn’t you come in through the mudroom?” Her heels click down the stairs.
“I’m a rancher. What do you expect me to smell like?”
“Go around back.” She frowns.
I shake my head. Her demon-eyed gaze follows my hands while I remove the extra gun, my holster, and every scrap of clothing from my body.
“What are you doing?” she hisses.
“I’m gonna shower, Jolene.” Snagging only my holster and the extra gun from the floor, I brush past her to the stairs.
“Indiana is up there changing Benjamin’s diaper. Stop this ridiculousness.” Jolene rarely loses complete control, so the shakiness of her words feels like a reward.
Fuck Fletcher.
Fuck Pauline.
Fuck Jolene.
I’m over it. I’m tired of being a prisoner with a life sentence sold under the guise of freedom.
“Milo …” She makes a last attempt.
“Darlin’, Indiana has seen me naked.”
And when I turn the corner, she’s right there. Two feet in front of me with Benjamin hugged to her; seeing me naked again.
Passing her, I saunter to my bedroom. Just before turning into it, I glance over my shoulder.
Indie’s gaze meets mine. I start to grin at her unapologetic inspection of me, but something in her eyes takes away any joy I feel.
It’s lifeless.
The last time I saw such a deep void in her eyes was when I married Jolene.
33
THE MISTRESS
INDIE
“He’s amazing, isn’t he?” Jolene plucks Benjamin from my arms when I get to the bottom of the stairs. She’s said it at least a dozen times since arriving home.
I don’t give her a response like I didn’t give her one the other twelve times she said it. It’s hard to focus on anything but her apparent ineptness when holding a baby. I’m not an expert either, but I’m far from her.
He cries.
She frowns, doing an uneven bounce in her high heels. It’s like he doesn’t even recognize her as his mother. If her only child can’t stand her, that says all that needs to be said.
“You’re dismissed.” She presses her hand to Benjamin’s head while he rears back in a scream. “I’ll let you know when I need you again.”
I can’t turn away from the spectacle. It’s a train wreck demanding my attention. Jolene whisks Benjamin toward the kitchen. “Shh … I’ll get you a bottle. Please stop crying.”
I haven’t looked at Benjamin with any sort of focus. Everything is still too numb.
I change diapers.
Feed him.
Walk him.
Rock him to sleep.
All without looking into his eyes.
It’s unbearable to see Milo in him because I’ll be forced to see Jolene too. So I’ve spent the day being very robotic with him. Does that make me a terrible person? Is it his fault? After all, I was the child caught in a mess that wasn’t my fault.
She groans from the kitchen. “Why is this bottle leaking?”
When I reach the top of the stairs, I meander past my room to their room. How many mistakes will I make before one of them kills me or I stumble upon happiness with nothing more than dumb luck finally on my side?
Closing the bedroom door, my thumb presses the lock. Light seeps beneath the bathroom door. My feet pad to the light, and I slide open the door, closing it behind me.