Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“That’s very idealistic of you to even suggest that,” Stowe apprised me. “And while I think you’re being naive, you never know.”
“We’re melting here, people,” the guy who wanted to go earlier pointed out. “The only one of us who will live is McCabe.”
I did a slow turn for him with a sweeping gesture at my shorts and T-shirt. “This is what all the tactical response teams will be wearin’ this summer,” I told him.
“It’s one in the morning. Why is it still hot?” Matt complained, standing beside Stowe now.
“Can we go, Ross, or do you want to talk about your sister some more?”
Lang shook his head, grabbed my bicep, and tugged so I was walking right beside him on the way to the BearCat.
FIVE
Our statements were short and to the point, and we each wrote one, as first-hand accounts had to be compiled alone so they would be unbiased with memories that were not your own. What had always impressed me about ours was how close they routinely were, details-wise. We noticed and saw so many of the same things at any given moment—another reason why we made such good partners.
Once we were done, I was sitting in the break room on my phone, and when Lang came in, I told him that Nicolette was very interested in seeing him again.
He scowled. “How do you know that?”
“I got a text from Ashton.” I looked up at him and smiled. “Apparently, you had a whole redemptive arc with her in the span of one evenin’.”
He sat down beside me. “Why would I need a redemptive anything?”
“You were crappy to her for a minute, but you apologized sincerely, and then later you were your usual funny, charmin’ self and—”
“I’m charming?”
“When you wanna be, yeah.”
“That’s nice to know.” He was quiet a moment and then suddenly scowled at me. “How does that guy Ashton have your number?”
“He asked me for it.” I shrugged. “So I gave it to him.”
“Why would you do that?”
He sounded really annoyed, like I’d done something stupid, and I had no idea why. “What’s with you? You’ve been so prickly lately.”
“When precisely? You can’t just make a blanket statement like that. You have to back it up with facts. The when, the days, the times, and what words were spoken. Be specific.”
I groaned. “I hate it when you get like this.”
“What? Logical? Calling you on your bullshit?”
“Why’re you pickin’ a fight? It’s late.”
“I’m not the one throwing out baseless accusations, am I?”
“No,” I announced, getting up. “I’m not up to doin’ this with you right now. Good night. I’ll talk to you sometime later today when I rise from my coffin.”
I made it to the archway—our break room didn’t have a door—and suddenly he was all over me. His arms were around my waist, his chest was plastered to my back, and his lips brushed against my ear.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a jackass, but like I said earlier, I’ve been working through something, and it’s been hard to wrap my brain around.”
I took hold of his wrist and held on, relaxed as I always was when wrapped in his arms. “What is it? Tell me. I can help.”
He sighed deeply. “You should be freaking out.”
“About what?”
“Most guys, if I grabbed them like this, they would be surprised.”
“Yeah, but you hug me like this all the time.” And I loved it and counted on how physically demonstrative he was. I got hugs from both his mother and sister, but the majority of times I was held tight came from him.
“I know,” he said, chuckling, his warm breath on the side of my neck. “Look at that. Did I just break you out in goose bumps?”
“No,” I denied quickly because it would do no good to let him know. “It’s colder’n crap in this office at night. It’s like a damn meat locker.”
“So it’s not me?” He let go, spun me around to face him, and slid both hands up under my T-shirt to slightly above my shorts.
All I could do was stand there and stare at him.
“Are you sure it’s not me?” As he asked the question, one of his hands slipped around my side to the small of my back, and the other took hold of my hip. “I think it’s me.”
My breath caught, and it was hard to meet his gaze.
“I bet Ashton texted to tell you about Nicolette changing her mind about me, and then he asked you out. He wants alone time with the hot marshal, am I right?”
He was. Lots of lovely, praising words for me about my smile and my voice and my delectable frame. It was really very kind. And I would have told Lang that, bantered with him, but my brain had shorted out when his hands touched my bare skin.