Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Finishing stripping the linen from the duvet, she balled it up and dumped it in a basket. “At first, it was just dumb pranks. Egging my truck, toilet-papering the yard, and calling the house—sometimes no one would speak, other times a voice would threaten me to keep my mouth shut if I wanted an easy life. Once, he even snatched the clean laundry that was drying on the line and dumped it in the marsh. Another time, he left a dead skunk on the hood of my truck. He and his friends were watching from the other side of the lot, laughing. It was all juvenile shit.” Tugging off a pillowcase, she added, “But then, it got worse.”
“Worse how?”
She threw the pillowcase in the basket. “Someone emptied my bank account, canceled my cell phone contract, maxed out my credit cards—shit like that.” Gwen thought it was lucky she hadn’t kept much of her savings in the bank. Donnie taught them to hide their money, not to trust banks. If she hadn’t followed his paranoid advice, she’d have lost it all. “Of course, I can’t prove that the Moores had anything to do with it, but I know by the call I got from Brandt, passing on his sympathies to my situation, that his family was behind it.”
Bastards. “He ever assault you?”
The dark note in Zander’s tone made her look at him. “He came close to hitting me with a bat a few days ago when I stopped him from vandalizing my truck. Donnie scared him off.”
Zander bit back a growl. Even his wolf didn’t like that she’d almost been assaulted. “What did the Moores do to terrorize Andie?”
“Way worse stuff than they did to me. They threw bricks through her windows, spray-painted her house, slashed her tires, tried breaking into her home. Brandt and his friends always had alibis, but I doubt Colt would have acted even if they hadn’t claimed to have them.”
Zander watched her apply the fresh bed linen. She had very elegant hands. Pretty and smooth. Hands that would look so fucking good wrapped around his cock. Shoving that image out of his head, he asked, “I don’t foresee the Moores backing down at any point. You?”
“No, they won’t back down.” And neither would Gwen. “I had a thought earlier. I was wondering if . . .”
“If?” he prompted.
Gwen shook her head, deciding it wasn’t important. “Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
“No, really, forget it.”
Zander walked toward her. “Tell me.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
But it did, because one thing that made Zander crazy was people not finishing their sentences. “What were you going to say?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she repeated.
“Will you just fucking tell me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.
“Not if you’re going to fucking swear at me. A woman is entitled to her own private thoughts, you know. If you really want to stick your nose in something, grab a book.” Done with the bedding, she lifted the basket of dirty linen. “I need to take this downstairs and then get to Half ’n’ Half. My shift starts soon.”
Zander rolled back his shoulders, shaking off his irritation. “Bracken and I will accompany you. We’ll eat and play pool while we wait.”
“None of the Moores will go there. Not only because Chase would throw them out, but because they wouldn’t want to be seen in a place so common.”
“They’re getting desperate. Desperate people do stupid things.”
Like turning up at my house drunk with a bat and cans of spray paint, she thought. “All right. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes. Be ready.”
Ten minutes later, Zander stood near the front door with Bracken and Marlon as Gwen came jogging down the stairs. His cock instantly hardened at the sight of her smooth, bare legs. He gave her a severe frown, blocking her path to the door. “You need to put on some jeans.” He didn’t care how it sounded, didn’t care that it would hint at just how attracted he was to her.
Her brows lifted. “Sorry?”
“You need to cover up those legs.”
Gwen blinked, unsure if she should be offended or not. “Why, what’s wrong with them?”
Forcing his jaw to unclench, Zander said, “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed how much people stare at them.”
Actually, she didn’t recall people paying much attention to them. “They’re just legs.”
Marlon chuckled. “They’re lethal. I’ve seen people bump into shit because they’re so busy looking at your legs.”
She shook her head. “Whatever.”
Zander stepped into her personal space. “Let me ask you a question: Are your tips better when you wear shorts like those?” Her expression answered that question for him, and he watched realization dawn on her face, quickly followed by disbelief. “Cover them up.”
Gwen looked at him, lost. “Why?”
“We just established why,” he clipped. “People stare at your legs. I don’t want them staring at your legs.”