Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“I am not touchy. And I am not upset that you called me Rambo,” he rumbled out.
Wow, she was pretty sure that was the most he’d ever said to her at one time.
“Haven’t had anything to say to you before.”
“Shit. I’m talking out loud, aren’t I?” she said, mortified.
His gaze narrowed in warning, although she wasn’t sure why.
Umm, probably because you just called him touchy? And you also said you didn’t like Sylvester Stallone.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t care if you like Sylvester Stallone or not.”
She slammed her hand over her mouth. It was the only way to stop the carnage. She was like a train wreck heading from Ridiculous Town into Disasterville.
“I’m upset because instead of attending a training session as I’d planned, I had to track down a little girl who didn’t have the sense not to go wandering off, and who is dressed in,” he reached out and grabbed hold of her jacket, rubbing the material between his finger and thumb, “a very thin, useless jacket, no hat, no gloves, and I’m guessing no phone since you didn’t call anyone for help. Am I right?”
Oh, so that explained why he was dressed in camos and had paint over his face. She’d kind of wondered about that.
She dropped her hand and gave him a disgruntled look. “It’s spring!”
“That wouldn’t be much help with the sun going down and the temperature plummeting, would it, little girl?” he drawled.
“I wasn’t intending to stay out this late!”
“Swing your legs in,” he commanded.
“What? Why? Where are we going? I have to get home. I’ve got to cook Kent and Eden dinner. So, thanks for the rescue and all, although I was capable of walking on my own, but I best get going.”
He must have reached the end of his patience, because he grabbed her legs and turned her, then took hold of the belt, buckling her in. He fiddled with something on the side of the door as she fumed. She was not going with this whacko. Did Clint know what this guy was like? Technically, Jed worked for Kent. She wasn’t sure what he’d done before coming to work for JSI, he wasn’t exactly talkative and if anyone else knew, they weren’t saying.
“Don’t undo that belt,” he warned before slamming the door shut. She ignored that order and as soon as his back was turned, she unlocked the belt and reached for the door handle. Nothing happened. She fiddled with the lock. Crap! He’d nearly reached the driver’s door.
Shit! He’d put the kiddy lock on.
“You put the kiddy lock on? Really? Didn’t trust me?” she asked sarcastically as he climbed in.
He just gave her a cool look.
She sighed. “Listen, I know I fucked up. I do. I shouldn’t have walked into the woods. I got lost, all right? You see there was this damn bunny—”
“Do up your seatbelt and watch your language. Save your explanations for Kent.”
“You’re taking me to Kent.” Relief made her a little light-headed. It wasn’t that she’d actually thought he might hurt her. But he was acting odd. “Look, there’s no reason to disturb him. I’ll see him later at the house. And I really would like to get back there and get warm and change my clothes. So, if you’ll just open the door—”
“No.”
“No?” she squealed.
He reached across and refastened her seatbelt.
“What do you mean, no? You’re not the boss of me. Let me out of the damn truck.”
“That’s seven.”
“Seven what?” she asked as he started the truck up. Surprisingly, it purred. Huh, seemed he kept the engine in good condition, even if he didn’t seem to care about the scrapes and dents on the outside.
“Seven times you’ve sworn since I found you. I’ll tell Kent that too.”
“You don’t have to tell him anything. I’ll tell him everything. Later. At home. Come on, Jed, please.”
He didn’t say anything, just turned the pick-up around and headed up the steep road that led to JSI headquarters. If you could call it a road. It was more like a wide, cleared path. His truck seemed to handle the rough ride easily. She wished she could say the same.
“I don’t want to interrupt Kent while he’s working,” she told him as she grabbed hold of the seat to try to steady herself. It felt like her fillings were going to rattle right on out of her teeth.
“Too late for that. Who do you think sent me to search for you?”
Oh fuck.
“Look, I’m really sorry to have inconvenienced you. If you just take me home, I promise I’ll stay there.”
Nothing.
“So now I’m getting the silent treatment?”
Still nothing.
She sighed. Great. Seemed like she was off to see Kent. Well, on the plus side, at least he would talk to her. He could be reasonable.
3
She watched Kent warily as he paced back and forth in front of the small sofa where she sat in his office.