Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
I tip her head back, forcing her to meet my gaze. "I don't give a fuck about anyone inside that cafe, unicorn. You're hungry. We're getting food."
I'm not thrilled about sharing her, but I don't really give a shit. I meant what I told her today. I'll come into town every fucking day if that's what I have to do. Everything anyone could have said about me, they said years ago. So long as they aren't saying it about her, I don't care.
That's not why I stopped walking.
"You seem nervous," she murmurs.
"Nope. I seem annoyed. Sheriff Midnight is heading our way." I nod in his direction. God only knows what he wants.
Madeline glances to the left, her eyes growing comically wide when she spots him striding down the sidewalk at the far end of the block, his eyes locked on the two of us. Before I can even process what's happening, she's behind me, using my body like a shield.
"We have to run, Drake," she hisses. "Right now."
Jesus fuck. Did she actually murder her cousin today?
"We're not running from the cops, Madeline."
"I swear to God if you don't move your ass, Whitlock…"
I spin around, scooping her up into my arms, mildly alarmed that she did actually murder Tyler today and intends to flee for her life. I mean, I'll run with her. I'm a fucking billionaire. I'm fairly confident in my ability to survive a life on the lam. But Midnight will be pissed about it. And fucking her on the run will be a helluva lot harder than fucking her in my bed…but a motherfucker will do what a motherfucker's gotta do.
But apparently, I'm not the kind of ride-or-die motherfucker who just rides. I've got questions first.
"Why are we running?"
"He knows we had sex," she whisper-hisses, her cheeks blazing red. "I can't meet him when he knows we had sex, Drake."
Jesus Christ. She has me plotting a life on the run because the sheriff knows we're fucking.
"Marry me."
She gapes at me.
Fuck. It's too soon. I shouldn't have said that. I absolutely meant it, but I shouldn't have said it yet. I should have waited, given her more time to realize that this is exactly what she wants, and then asked.
"You want to marry me?"
"I wanted to marry you five minutes after I met you, Madeline." Goddamn my mouth.
"Whitlock!" Midnight lifts his hand, motioning for me.
Madeline's eyes flicker in his direction. "If I say yes, will you run?"
"Are you only saying yes because you want me to run?"
"No."
"Then yes, I'll run."
"Then yes, I'll marry you."
Fucking hell. She actually said yes.
I tighten my grip on her and turn, taking off in the opposite direction as the sheriff.
"Whitlock!" he shouts after me.
"Can't talk!" I growl over my shoulder at Midnight. "I'm fucking busy."
"Yeah. We're going to have we're-getting-married sex!" Madeline shouts, clinging to my shoulders as peals of her laughter ring out around us. The bright, happy sound hits me right in the goddamn heart, toppling every single inch of it into her perfect hands.
This is the most chaotic, perfect holiday I've ever had. And I get to spend a lifetime with her and her chaos turning my life upside down, making every part of it better every single day. The past doesn't matter anymore—this does. She does. And I can't fucking wait to turn this town inside out with her.
Epilogue
Madeline
Six Years Later
"You are in so much trouble, Drake Whitlock!" I cry, storming into his office with the baby in my arms and a scowl on my face.
He glances up at me from his desk, his eyes wide. "Whatever it is, I probably did it, and I'm sorry."
"Oh, you definitely did it." I stomp across the room toward him. "The school just called."
"Shit." He actually looks nervous now. Good. He should.
"Our daughter was in the principal's office."
"What did she do?"
"Where did you take her last night, Whitlock?"
He gulps, his gaze sliding from mine. "For ice cream?"
"Try again."
"I can explain, unicorn."
"Oh, really?" I adjust the baby in my arms. "You can explain why our five-year-old daughter drew her Halloween decorations having S-E-X and drinking beer while all the other kids drew theirs chilling in the front yard?"
"Fuck," he whispers, drawing the word out.
"You are so lucky that the principal helps steal the decorations and knew what was happening!" I growl. "Livvie didn't have a clue. She probably thought we were crazy sex people."
"Crazy sex people?" He rises from the desk, circling around to me with a smile tugging at his lips. "I do not want to know where your mind went, unicorn."
"I saw a movie once."
"Was it porn?"
"Maybe. That's beside the point." I narrow my eyes on him. "Stop trying to change the subject, Drake Whitlock. Why did you take her out there? She's way too young to see all of that!"
He knows I'm not wrong. Six years ago, there were hundreds of decorations out there. Now, there are hundreds more. And none of them are doing anything appropriate for a five-year-old's eyes.