Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Her head cranks up, and I hear her vertebra groan at the sudden movement. I’ve just said the wrong thing. The wrongest of wrong things. She’s instantly back to being ultra-panicked. “What the…what?”
I don’t even know why I put that out there. I don’t want to share my space with another person, which is precisely why I don’t. Move in with me? Of all the foolish, imbecilic things to put out there. Good fucking gravy.
“For the love of cheesy toes, I am not doing that,” she exclaims, smacking the table for good measure. Wham!
Time for some levity. I’ve gone way too far. I’m still reeling, too, although I hope my usual dead face is good at covering for me. Because right now is not the time to catch feelings. I mean, have emotions, show emotions. Whatever. Same difference.
“What are cheesy toes?”
She shudders. “I don’t—I…never mind. I don’t think anyone loves those. I should have said for the hate of cheesy toes.”
“Like athlete’s foot,” I quip.
“Something like that.”
“I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone who does enjoy that.”
Then, all of a sudden, she gets serious. Our minute of levity is going to last just that. A minute. I don’t like this new weight that’s settled onto Ignacia’s shoulders. She’s still beautiful, but it’s so clear someone has reached inside her and stolen her light.
That light-stealing, identity-stealing, fucking Aiden fucker.
A giant crab cracker. That’s what I need to break the guy in half.
I should have unleashed Ignacia’s crawfish. I’m sure Ol’ Snappy Claws, or whatever his name is, would have enjoyed latching onto Aiden’s genitals and hanging out.
Shudder. This is all just to keep my own brain occupied, so I don’t do or say the wrong thing right now, not when it truly counts that I don’t do exactly that.
Frowning, she murmurs, “Move in with you? No. I don’t even know where you live. Also, what about the cats?”
“Your safety was compromised. You fled from your own life because of this creep, and now he knows where you are. He stole so much from you. And you’re worried about the cats?”
She gets an ounce of sass back, and color floods her cheeks. At this point, thank fucking god for that. I was so worried. Yes, me. The guy who doesn’t get worried. The guy who doesn’t feel anything. The guy who is really good at managing what little emotions he does have. As a rule, I don’t get angry either.
However, my rules are all shot to shit because I’m still livid.
I think I might even be angrier than Ignacia is.
“I made a commitment to them,” she says. “When I bought this place. I might not have known they came with it, but they were here before I was, and they deserve to be taken care of. They might be great hunters and enjoy their life outdoors and not want to be indoor-kept pets, but it doesn’t mean I don’t worry about them or love them. They’re affectionate, and they love me back. I provide food for them twice a day.”
“Okay.” I have the sudden inspiration that I need to be gentle with her right now. I need to see her points as valid because they’re important to her. I need to make her feel heard. And then, I need to bring down the hammer and get her to accept my idea. There is no way she can say no to this. “Okay, I can ask one of the neighbors to look in on them. I’m sure someone will do it for the right amount of money.”
She bites down on her bottom lip and looks out the window. “Still no.”
Alright, I tried to be gentle. I tried. “Then I’m moving in here,” I state.
“No!” she exclaims. Now I have her full attention. Her full stubbornness, too. I can see it creeping up, flushing her neck, and moving in as her eyes get harder and her jaw sets in place. She looks utterly determined not to share this space with me.
If I were the kind of person who got offended, then I might be. It’s not like I have the plague or anything. And it’s not like I’m Aiden. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t properly spelled this out for her.
“In my other life, I’m basically a bodyguard, although I hate that word. I’m a Personal Protection Officer. You need to hire me.”
“No, nope. How the heck would I do that anyway? You’re the kind of person who wouldn’t do that dangerous kind of work—putting your life on the line—unless it made you some serious bank. You’re already minted. You don’t even need to work. So either you sometimes enjoy nearly getting killed, or you get a thrill out of protecting people, which would be kind of sweet, but I imagine the people who hire you are the ones who are also minted and making bank and whatever other rich people terms there are that could possibly apply.” Her nostrils flare out a little, and her eyes turn so stormy blue. There’s a fire in there that I haven’t seen before. She should have directed it at Aiden earlier, but I’m glad her spirit is coming back now.