Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“Because I keep weapons in the house, and I want you to be comfortable around them.”
“Do you have to? Keep weapons in the house, I mean.”
My answer is regretful. “Yes.”
Turning up her face, she searches my eyes. “Why?”
“You know why.”
“Why?” she asks again, the weight of the gun bearing her arms down.
“Because sometimes, I’m a dangerous man.”
A look of sadness comes over her features. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
“I know,” I say with more regret. “But this is where we are, and it’s not going to change.”
She considers the answer for a moment, and then she steels her spine. “Fine. With a bullet.”
“You’re sure?” I don’t want to traumatize her all over. That’s not my objective.
“I’m ready,” she says with resolution, her jaw tightening.
“That’s my girl.”
She has strength in spades.
After fitting our earmuffs, I help her take aim, but this time, she applies the pressure on the trigger by herself. The bullet flies from the chamber, hitting the target far to the right. She lowers the gun with shaking hands.
I kiss her temple. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay,” she says, her whole body trembling. “Again.”
“You sure?”
“That was a shitty shot.”
Her competitiveness makes me smile.
We empty the chamber and then a carton of bullets. She doesn’t hit a bullseye, but she’s comfortable with holding the gun in her hand, flipping off the safety, and pulling the trigger. That’s plenty considering where we started.
Moving her earmuff aside, I say, “Let’s call it a night.”
She blows out a breath. “Good. I’m starving.”
I grin. “Shooting does that to you.”
Turning in my arms, she stares up at my face. “You’re corrupting me, Leon Hart.”
This moment may just be the happiest of my entire life. I take the gun from her hands and set it aside before replying in a low voice, “You’ve been corrupted long before I met you, Violet Hart. Admit it. That’s why I’m perfect for you.”
She doesn’t reply. She ducks under my arm and saunters to the exit, leaving me standing in the box a little giddy and a whole lot smitten.
CHAPTER 19
Violet
Apparently, shooting not only makes me hungry but also horny. After a mostly sleepless night of several rounds of sex and multiple orgasms, I’m running late for work the following morning. Leon kisses me goodbye and leaves before me. When I open the pedestrian gate with my handbag slung over one shoulder and a cooler bag over the other, Zelda stands on the pavement with a plastic container in her hands. She’s wearing duck-motive pajamas and her feet are bare.
“Chocolate chip cookies,” she says, shoving the container at me. “To apologize for the other day.”
I accept the container. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to.”
“No. I had to.” She drills a toe into the soft grass bordering the pavement. “I was out of line.”
“How are you doing?” I ask gently.
“We talked a lot.” She crosses her arms behind her back. “Sam agreed to use a sperm donor.”
“That’s good, right?”
Swinging from side to side, she says, “He’s worried about not knowing what we’ll get. You know? A lot of characteristics are genetic. What if the donor is a serial killer or a psychopath?”
“I’m sure they screen at the bank,” I offer.
“Still. It’s a gamble. We’re going to advertise and interview interested candidates. Sam is willing to pay handsomely. That way, we’re sure to get good genes.”
“That’s great. It sounds like you have it all figured out. I’m happy for you.”
She motions at the cooler bag with the lunchbox Leon prepped to go. “It looks like you’re rushing off somewhere.”
“Oh, I never got a chance to tell you. I got a job at Inked.”
“The tattoo place? Wow. Congrats.”
“Thanks. Leon called in a favor with a contact. I started on Monday.”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“I’m having fun. It’s not my dream job, but it’s a steppingstone.”
“I better let you get to work then.”
“Thanks for the cookies,” I say, dropping the container in the cooler bag. “We’ll talk more when I get off work.”
She steps off the pavement and backtracks over the road. “Not tonight. Sam and I are drawing up a list of requirements and drafting our ad.” She gives a little wave. “Maybe next week.”
“Call me if you need someone to chat to before then,” I call after her as she slips into her house.
I stare at her closed front door for a second before I get into the Lexus. I feel bad about not being there for her today, but I’m now running even more behind schedule.
As Murphy’s Law will have it, traffic is a bitch. On my way to work, I call Annie to let her know I’ll be fifteen minutes late. It’s not the impression I’d like to give in my first week on the job, but Vero is very accommodating when I pop into her office to apologize and promise to stay later.