Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 14074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
“College doesn’t really work like that. When did you go to college?”
“When I was sixteen. I’m a bit of a genius, or so they say,” he says with a shrug as if it’s no big deal.
I’m lusting after the sexiest nerd around, and he acts like it’s not important information. “Now, I’m glad you kept that from me. I’m struggling just trying to get my teaching degree, and you’re a Mensa member.”
“Please. You give me too much credit. Enough. Let’s get going and then we can spend the day out.”
Chapter 11
Aiden
We hop into my SUV, leaving the police station after two hours of questioning and filling out forms. I’m about to start the vehicle when her phone rings. She looks at the caller ID then sends it to voicemail, so I ask, “Why didn’t you answer it?”
“It’s my parents.”
“They’re probably just worried about you.”
The phone rings again, and this time with a roll of her eyes, she answers it. “What’s up?”
I just click my seatbelt when she says, “No, I’m not coming home.” My hands wrap around the steering wheel, feeling the tension. They don’t quit. Maybe they’re worried about her. I know if that happened to my kid, I’d do everything I could to make sure they were safe.
The voice on the other end of the phone became loud. “Young lady you will come home now. I thought having your things stolen would have brought you back.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You act like you’re glad I was robbed,” she exclaims, and I’m in agreement.
“I am. You belong home and marrying Thomas.”
That’s it. I’d had enough of hearing her father being a total fucking cunt. I snatch the phone from her hands and greet the motherfucker.
“She isn’t going anywhere. Kate’s mine, and fuck if she’s coming back to Texas to marry some douchebag. And if you want to test me, I’ll bury you.”
“Boy, who the hell do you think you are talking to? She’s my daughter and is engaged to someone else.”
“I’m only going to repeat myself once. She’s mine. Now if you ever call her again with attitude, I’ll dig a little deeper into your finances, Mr. Sloan.”
“Fine, keep the little bitch. She’s no longer welcome here,” he scoffs, hanging up on me.
“Well, she’s forever welcome with me.” I want to launch the phone out the window.
“Does he normally talk to you like that?” I ask with a little more anger than I should have when speaking to my sweet woman.
“When no one is around,” she admits, refusing to look at me.
I can’t have that. I cup her chin and turn her face to mine. Her beautiful blue eyes are filled with tears. It breaks my damn heart. How can people be mean to her? I won’t tolerate it from anyone.
Brushing my hand along her jaw, I apologize, “Baby, I’m sorry. I don’t understand why he’s insistent about you marrying that guy.”
“I know why,” she sighs. “He owes Thomas money, and I’m the payoff. Me in exchange for the debt cleared.”
“That’s not going to happen. I won’t let anyone take you from me unless you want to leave me.”
“I don’t ever want to leave you,” she confesses in a choking sob.
“Don’t cry. Good, because I didn’t really mean that. I’d do whatever I could to make you stay,” I growl, leaning in and stealing a deep kiss.
“Oh Aiden,” she moans as I tug on her hair.
A tap on the window forces us apart.
“Hey. This is a police station parking lot. You might not want to get too wild, or we’ll be locking you up for public misconduct.” It’s the same officer who took our report.
“Sorry, Officer Owens,” we apologize at the same time.
“Getting lucky is great way to celebrate especially when it comes to this holiday, but at least take it home. Have a good St. Patrick’s Day,” he teased, walking away with a smile.
“He’s got a great point, but since it is St. Patrick’s Day, do you want to go eat some corned beef and cabbage at a restaurant?” I ask as we both straighten up in our seats.
“Sure. I could totally go for that.” She rubs her hands together with a greedy grin.
We stop off at a local restaurant where the smell of corned beef permeates through the air. “A table for two,” the hostess asks me.
“Yes, please.”
“Please follow me.” I take Kate’s hand and lead her to a small booth.
An older waitress comes up to us with a smile and a ton of green on. She has one of those headbands with the springy clovers on top. “Hi there. I’m Karen. Happy St. Patrick’s Day.”
“Same to you,” Kate says. I love that the call, and its resolution seem to have been pushed away for the time being. “It’s surprisingly quiet for St. Patrick’s Day.”
“The last rush just left. You got here at the right time. I’d say in about ten minutes this place will be full. Can I get you something to drink?”