Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
She knew what and who I was dealing with today.
My anxiety at having to be at a large event such as that one was already making my hands go clammy.
But it was also seeing Nathan that had me calming down just a little bit.
Despite my feelings on the man, and his feelings toward me, he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.
“Thank you so much for the help, Sierra,” I said, touching my now beautifully styled hair. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
***
Two hours into the event, I got my first glimpse of him.
He was wearing a three-piece suit.
And, he was wearing it very, very well.
I rolled my tongue back into my mouth and tried to disappear deeper into the side of the room.
When I next looked up, he was gone, but the imprint of himself he’d left in my brain was not gone.
In fact, it was going to be burned into my psyche for days and weeks to come.
I groaned and turned my eyes back in the direction of the door, my curiosity keeping my gaze firmly there.
I wanted to know if my uncle Michael would show up.
I hadn’t seen him for a few weeks after he’d gone on a cruise with my aunt, and I missed him.
But I never saw him, and sadly, I looked like a total loser just sitting there on the side of the room, so I forced myself to walk around as if I had a purpose instead of being lost and bored.
An hour after that, I got my first up close and personal view of Nathan.
“Nathan.” I nodded my head, trying to appear as aloof and unaffected as I usually did.
Nathan’s eyes scanned me from head to toe, and I had to beg my nipples not to show themselves off.
It worked, but only because Nathan’s lips curled up as if what he saw displeased him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding just as unaffected as he appeared.
Not good to see you. Not wow, you look great. Not even a hello. Just a ‘what are you doing here?’
“I planned the event,” I said as I continued past him. “Have a good night.”
Nathan caught my arm before I could leave.
“Don’t be rude, Reg. Reg, this is one of my fellow SWAT team members, Saint.” Nathan dropped my arm as if it’d burned him.
I glared at Nathan, then did the polite thing by offering my hand to Saint.
He took it with a grin.
“Nice to meet you,” I said at the same time he did.
We both had a good chuckle at that, and I found myself scooting closer to him and away from the very unhappy man at his side.
I could practically feel the heat rolling off of Nathan.
“Did you know that my uncle was once called Saint? And he was on the SWAT team?” I asked curiously.
Saint grinned. “Your uncle is Michael?”
I nodded eagerly. “He is.”
“Well then it’s doubly nice to finally meet you,” Saint said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” His eyes flicked to Nathan then back to me. “How do you two know each other?”
Before I could answer that question, a commotion brought our attention to something that was happening in the kitchen.
I turned just in time to see the cake making its way out of the kitchen heading right past me.
Right at the same time that the entire damn thing was dumped as they tripped over me.
Apparently, I was too short to see.
Who knew?
Luckily, the jerk that barely tolerated me pulled me out of the way just in time to keep the cake from falling on top of me.
Unluckily, the cake was still ruined and the two people that hadn’t seen me had caused a thousand-dollar cake to go to waste.
My shoulders slumped in defeat and I took that as my cue to leave.
I didn’t care what Dracon thought, either.
Stepping over the large pile of cake on the floor, I nodded once at Saint and didn’t once look back.
It was only a bonus that when I got home I found out that my apartment had been broken into.
I should’ve never gone.
Chapter 3
Don’t you wish your coffee was hot like me?
-Text from Reggie to Nathan
Reggie
My phone rang, and I answered it with a groan.
“Hello?” I mumbled, eyes heavy and lined with sand.
“You’re not going to believe this.”
My friend, Sierra, that I worked with on the NICU—neonatal intensive care unit—floor snapped her fingers at me.
Even though I couldn’t see those fingers, I knew it was directed toward me.
“Wake up!”
I heaved a huge sigh and reluctantly moved my body into a sitting position.
“What?” I mumbled, every single muscle in my body protesting my move.
Last night all came roaring back to me, and I couldn’t stop the grimace of embarrassment from overtaking my face at the thought of my shit night.
“I’m not going to believe what?” I asked, eyes still half-closed.