Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
She’s right, but it still sucks to hear how lame it is.
“I have a social life.”
“You spend most of your nights creating formulas and researching.”
“Can we move on?”
“So, to recap, you’ve moved into a townhome occupied by two men.”
“It’s a temporary stay with two men who are a committed couple, and I’m taking care of the dog.”
“You’re the new face of Fire Station 26 on Instagram.”
“Hardly, it’s a few pictures with Pepper.”
“A few pictures that speak volumes. That pup is precious, but you seem to be the center of attention.”
“Are you on Instagram now?”
“Yes, checking it out. The guy with the dimples is cute.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” This is a lie because most of the men are good-looking, but none of them hold a flame to Ford.
“Mmhmm, I can guess why. "
There’s an uptick in her voice that causes a twist in my gut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mother’s intuition.”
“What is clairvoyance telling you?”
“That spontaneity looks stunning on you.”
“Mom—”
“After you broke up with Craig, we knew something was off. We should have pressed harder to get you to open up. But you seemed to move on, were making friends, accepting changes, and excelling in your way. After what happened, I have been scared to death he did irreparable damage, and praying with everything in my soul for you to find happiness. The woman in these pictures is beautiful. The smile is genuine, the glow is there.”
“You picked up all that from a few snapshots?”
“A few snapshots and one very specific picture taken at nine-fifteen this morning with Ford Whitman standing to the side watching you like he’s ready to crush skulls.”
“WHAT!?!” I stop walking, jerking Pepper back and pulling up the station’s page.
She’s right, Ford is almost out of the shot, but his eyes are trained on me, his face hard as stone with a fierce intensity.
“It’s nothing. He’s been helping me exercise the dog in the mornings.”
“Sure,” she draws out.
“Really, he’s been working nights and jogging in the mornings with her.”
After our dinner on Monday night, Ford went to work with the promise to be back in the morning. For the last two days, he’s shown up at nine a.m. to join us.
“Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. Trust me on this, a mother knows.”
“No, really, don’t—”
The words die because, out of the corner of my eye, I catch the shiny black truck parked in front of the townhome.
Then all the breath leaves my lungs.
Ford is perched against the passenger side, his grey shirt stretched tight across his muscular chest, his arms and legs crossed. Even behind the aviator glasses, I feel the heat of his eyes coasting over my skin.
A thrilling current sizzles in the air, pulling me in.
“Rowan?”
“I n-n-n-eed to go.”
Dammit with the stammer.
One side of Ford’s lip curls as he pushes off the truck and claps, setting Pepper in a tizzy. I release the leash.
“Rowan, are you okay?” All humor is gone, replaced with an icy fear.
“Yes, Mom. Listen, I’ll explain more later, but Ford is waiting for me at the townhouse, and he’s an hour early for our date,” I whisper-hiss.
This is bad, bad, bad. My first date with Ford requires primping.
Luckily, I did my nails at the salon. But hair, make-up, the perfect outfit… it requires time. Time I fit into my schedule. Now he’s here and I’m nowhere near preened!
“Eke! That’s awesome.”
“An hour early, Mom!”
“Well, he may need to be schooled in the etiquette of picking up a lady for a date, but my guess is he doesn’t give a rat’s ass.”
“Got to go,” I emphasize.
“You will call me later, young lady.”
“Love you.” I hang up, shoving the phone in my pocket as he starts my way.
“You’re early,” I blurt out.
“You’re walking the dog, alone.”
I cast my eyes to each side absentmindedly, wondering why this is an issue. “This is a safe neighborhood.”
“Not worried about the neighborhood.”
It hits me.
His expression this morning. The smoldering flare in his eyes. The words he’s uttered several times.
He’s jealous.
Harley and Jewls have endless stories about the overzealous antics of Ace and Major, but I always found it romantic. Now I understand how it is on the receiving end. An unfamiliar sensation travels over my skin.
Ford Whitman—Marine warrior, hailed hero, loyal brother, most gorgeous man I’ve ever met… is jealous over me.
I want to argue, but my mind has other plans. My body lurches forward, arms and legs wrapping around him. His arms lock under my thighs, hoisting me up as my mouth crashes to his.
Electricity scores through my veins when his tongue sweeps around my mouth. The tang of strawberry sweetness explodes in my tastebuds; the woodsy, pine aroma of his cologne invades the air. I clutch his neck, slanting to give him full access. The low rumble of approval sends a tremor through me.
My body sparks to life and my hips thrust into him, feeling the hard bulge. The electric burn ignites a hunger I’ve never experienced.