Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Just to be clear.” Thoreau held up his hand. “I’m definitely not allowed to share this story at the pub? If I spread the word that his junk was small and oddly shaped, and that you’d turned down his naked proposal, they’d all point and laugh at him anytime he came in. That might put a dent in his confidence.”
Bronte patted his hand. “That’s thoughtful, but no. That’s too cruel for one episode in bad judgment. I was surprised, but like Younger said last month, William’s in a bad spot right now. And his window of opportunity is closing.”
“We should find a way to help him.”
Hugo looked up at Austen in surprise. “What?” she said. “Anyone with the nerve to literally dangle himself in the breeze like that—at Bronte of all people—deserves another chance.”
“Me of all people?”
“A strong woman who can take care of herself and shred a man at thirty paces? Hell yes you. Clearly he wasn’t intimidated.”
“Because he’s an idiot,” Hugo muttered, earning a glare from both his sisters. “He is. And my cheek feels numb, Austen. What exactly did you put in that batch?”
She patted his face firmly. “It’s better if I don’t tell you. Go wash it off now. The feeling should come back in about twenty minutes.”
Son of a bitch.
On the way to the bathroom, he heard his cellphone ringing. It was plugged in by his bed, ready for his nightly conversation with Solomon.
He was early.
He reached the phone right before it cut off. “Younger?”
“How’s the party?”
“Salacious. And potentially life threatening, depending on whether or not I can scrub this shit off my face in time. How are you?”
“Salacious, huh? Not talking about me, are you?”
“Not this time.” Hugo frowned as he entered the bathroom. “What’s wrong? Did I tire you out earlier? I wasn’t expecting your call for another few hours.”
“No, that’s not it.” Hugo heard him take a bracing breath. “I didn’t tell you why Stephen and James stopped by, and I can’t stop thinking I should have.”
Oh.
“So tell me now.”
“The mayor wants to meet with me. About Miller and what’s been going on there.”
Hugo gripped the washcloth he’d snagged and stared blankly at his reflection. He focused on keeping his tone even. Supportive. “I’m not surprised. How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. After what you told me and what James said about Miller going after people he thinks are connected to me, I don’t think I can ignore it.”
“I know you can’t.” He was a natural protector, and the mayor knew exactly what he was doing, getting his family involved.
Hugo took a beat, striving for calm. “They aren’t asking for a decision right now. They want to talk. It doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me. And if they want more than that they’ll have to give you time to think it over. Nothing is set in stone, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah.” He sounded so haggard Hugo wanted to drive over and wrap his arms around him. “You’re right. I’m overthinking this. And hey, I’m sorry to interrupt your family time, but after you left I realized how much I needed your opinion.”
“I’m glad. And like I said, you weren’t interrupting anything.” What he was doing was giving Hugo everything he’d asked for without hesitation. Making him feel necessary. Like a true partner.
“So now that we’ve settled that problem, what are you doing for the rest of the night?”
He heard Solomon’s smile. “I’m standing in my kitchen, wondering if I’ll ever be able to eat in here again without thinking of you on the table.”
“Stop. If I walk back into the living room with a hard-on I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Solomon laughed. “Can I still call you later?”
“You better.”
Hugo hung up and set the phone down, carefully washing the remaining paste off his face. When he finally looked up, he saw Bronte behind him. “Everything okay, Hugo?”
“Sure. Everything’s great.” He shrugged. “The mayor wants Chief Finn to come back to work.”
Bronte’s expression cleared. “Thank the lord. The new guy is a disaster.”
When he didn’t respond she frowned. “That is good news, right? You told me he hasn’t even been looking for another job, so there’s no conflict there. And we all know he was good at what he did.”
He was better than good.
“He was dedicated,” Hugo agreed. “He lived and breathed it. That job defined his personal and professional life for ten years.”
Not that Chief Finn had a personal life beyond family obligations. Chief Finn didn’t date. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t admit to his own needs until he was in too much pain to deny them.
“I see.”
Hugo turned to face her, slumping back against the sink. “Do you, Bronte? Because all I’m seeing right now is a spoiled, selfish son of a bitch who secretly wants the man he’s been fucking to stay available and focused on him instead of doing anything for anyone else. Instead of doing what would make him happy.”