Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
I’m silent, slowly taking it in.
“Wow. And the rest, as they say, is history?” I ask softly.
His warm breath fans across my hair.
“Yeah. She decided to go scorched earth and play it up. Guess her ego couldn’t handle the rejection.”
“I mean, I get why she made a pass at you,” I say, pinching his ass. I didn’t think I’d ever see a male ass so fine. “But she had no right saying all that crap. Let alone accusing you of such crazy, devious things...”
I search his eyes.
Is this just him opening up or new worries talking again?
I feel the way his hold tightens.
Just a fraction, enough to tell me he’s scared of what I could do to him if I ever told the world about this trip.
I press a lingering kiss to his sternum.
“Shepherd, I don’t talk about my sex life, my relationships, any of that on social media. I grew up seeing how much media hatches could piss Dad off, and I’ve never wanted a taste of that. My life is conservation, cute animals, and Molly. End of story.”
When I mention relationships, he stiffens.
I look up, but he won’t meet my gaze.
“Shepherd?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Because he’s stiffer than a board.
But I don’t bother pointing that out when he’s been so honest, so vulnerable. I’m sure he’ll just get that look in his eyes that tells me how much he hates me for noticing too much about him.
For reading him too deeply.
“Okay,” I say eventually. I know my boundaries.
Keep pressing, and he’ll probably shut down, and I don’t want that.
“Is Molly your dog?” he asks, successfully turning the conversation.
I see him holding his phone now, looking at my Instagram.
The guy is a natural.
Because let’s face it, what dog owner doesn’t want to talk about their fur baby?
I grin into his chest. “Yeah. She’s the best husky in the world. I think I love her more than I could ever love any one human.”
“Where is she now?”
“Oh, staying with a friend I met in my grad program for the weekend. Lena Joly. She’s an awesome vet tech and a good friend. Molly makes her laugh and gives her mouth a rest from cursing like a sailor.”
“Let’s hope it’s not at you.” He snorts with amusement.
“Nah, no way. Only at everything else.”
Shepherd murmurs against my hair again before saying, “Didn’t know you were close to anyone from grad school.”
“You didn’t ask. I have friends. I’m not a hermit like you.” Just for fun, I decide to keep the name vague. “Like Sam. We hang out all the time.”
“Sam?” he growls back, an edge in his voice.
“Yeah.” I shrug.
“Did you take a class in otter-nomics together, or what?”
“Close enough. We met in the library, actually, back when we were studying. We both kept showing up, sometimes looking for the same books, and having to take turns with a few.”
If Sam was a guy, it would’ve been the beginning of a cute rom-com.
But I’m determined to leave Shepherd guessing.
We actually became instant friends. She loves dogs and whales almost as much as I do, even if she ultimately switched to a zoology program.
“I see,” Shepherd clips, a line forming between his eyebrows.
God, he’s too adorable when he’s jealous.
“Do you want to know what else?”
“What?”
“We slept together all the time in college,” I say quietly.
“I need to meet this friend. To talk.” His arm tightens around me.
I let out a laughing squeal.
I just can’t with angry Shepherd.
“Destiny, be serious. Tell me this boy’s last name or—”
“Sam’s a girl, you lunk,” I force out through my laughing fit. “We used to have sleepovers all the time. As in, the kind where you sleep.”
“Smart-ass. And here I was looking forward to a grudge match over who gets to sleep with you,” he rumbles.
“Come on! It was funny. And, um, you’re the one who said this needs to stop as soon as we’re home. Remember?” I hold my breath.
“Yeah.” His face drops.
He doesn’t look up until I exhale.
“Come here, though, and I’ll fix your laughing attack,” he says, kissing me again, the back of his huge hand wrapped around the back of my neck.
He’s as good as his word.
He absolutely cures me one bruising kiss at a time.
We’re walking off the small chartered yacht and he’s carrying my kayak before he goes back for his stuff.
“You didn’t have to haul it, Shepherd!” I call after him, running to keep up. “I’m not helpless.”
“Maybe not, but after the time we’ve had, I know you feel like you were flattened by a Mack truck.” He rolls his eyes at me, knowing it’s too true. “You want me to strap it on Ladybug or what?”
“You remembered his name? How sweet!”
“God help me,” I hear him mutter, but I think his mouth twitches up again.
That tiny half smile might just be my Achilles heel.