Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Okay. I’m following the order of events, but not the actual problem. However, it explains your moodiness.”
“I don’t have tampons or pads! I’m just bleeding with a wad of toilet paper between my legs.”
Max’s lips formed an O. “You should have led with that.” She dug through her handbag and pulled out two tampons. “I’ll get you more after I go over the schedule with Ian.”
Jersey grabbed them from Max’s hand and headed back toward the stairs, stopping just outside of the kitchen. “Thank you,” she said without looking at Max.
“You’re welcome, Jersey.”
Slipping into the first bathroom, she swapped the toilet paper wad for the tampon before returning to Ian’s room.
“I’m done.”
Ian glanced up from the bed, reclined back, holding Jersey’s phone. “Come here.”
She sat on the edge of the bed. He patted his hand on the mattress right next to him. Jersey sighed and crawled over next to him, leaning closer to see the phone screen—a selfie of him with a cocky grin.
“I’m going to show you how to use this phone so you can reach me or Max if you need anything.”
Jersey nodded, giving him a quick glance. His gaze dropped to her mouth for a few seconds.
“Don’t look at me that way, Coop. I’m not in the mood.”
He coughed on a chuckle. “Look at you in what way? And what aren’t you in the mood for?”
“Don’t look at me like you plan on kissing me.”
“You’re not in the mood to kiss me?”
“No.” She nodded toward the phone. “Get to the point. Max is waiting for you downstairs to go over your schedule or something like that.”
“Since when did you start caring about Max’s time?”
“Since she’s going to buy me a box of tampons as soon as she’s done going over your schedule.”
His eyebrows shot up as his gaze snapped back to the phone. “Okay then, let’s get through this quickly.”
Jersey crossed her arms over her chest and twisted her lips to hide her grin. She was moody and irrationally sensitive. But if she were honest, she wasn’t really not in the mood to kiss Ian. A selfish, indulgent physical act sounded really good.
“This button gets you to your contacts. Max and I are your only contacts at the moment. You can message, call, or—”
“I lied.” She snatched the phone and tossed it on the floor. “I’m in the mood to be kissed.”
Be kissed. Commit emotional suicide. Blur the lines with blood and lust. If crazy period hormones were real, Jersey had them in full force—an insect ready to mate and then kill its prey.
“I bought you that phone, and you keep throwing it around.”
“Really, Coop? Do I have to ask you twice to kiss me?” She angled her body toward him.
He laughed. “You didn’t ask me once.”
“Do I really have to ask?” She shifted to her hands and knees, bringing her face close to his.
“Yes. Just ask me. Ask me to get you tampons. Ask me to take you boxing. Ask me what something means. Ask me for the world. Or just ask me for a kiss.”
“Kiss me, Coop.” She grinned, a breath away from his lips.
“Ask me,” he whispered.
His stubbornness infuriated her, but for whatever reason, she liked his style of foreplay.
“Coop, will you—”
“Yes.” He slid his hand behind her head and kissed her.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Things started to unravel the day of Ian’s departure for Portugal.
“Good news.” Max sat in the oversized chair in the corner of Ian’s bedroom as he finished packing.
They had the house to themselves since Jersey went on a walk with Chris.
“I like good news.” Ian set a pile of jeans on his bed next to his suitcase, everything freshly laundered by his service.
“Well, enjoy the three seconds it lasts.”
“Three seconds?” He squinted.
“Yep. Here we go. Start counting. Jersey’s birth certificate and social security card arrived. Three, two, one … and she has a record.”
Ian paused for a few seconds before shrugging. “Anything that might prevent her from getting a passport?”
“I doubt it. But it won’t take much for the press to find out.”
“Your point?”
“She killed a man.”
Ian stilled his hands, staring at the bottom of the suitcase for a few moments.
“That’s not on her record. I just decided to look up what I could on her once I discovered she had a record.”
“And?” Ian replied without any emotion.
“Theft and assault charges. She hasn’t done hard time, but she’s a repeat offender. And I know you’re going to blow this off and say so what. And given her history of living on the street, I tend to agree. So what? She had to survive, right?”
He nodded slowly.
“But she killed a man. Yes, come to find out he was a pretty sick man doing unthinkable things to young children. She wasn’t charged or convicted of any crime. But … she killed him, Ian. At age fourteen, she killed him. Not like shoving him into oncoming traffic or a subway train. Not poison. Not with a gun she found in the house. She cut him open from throat to groin like a butcher. That’s not normal. And she always has a knife on her. Hello? This is crazy!”