Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
His sigh sounds relieved. “Thank you.”
I only wanted to shut my eyes for a few seconds, but when I open them again we’re already pulling into a driveway. His driveway. And the two-story house at the end of it looks like it belongs to a family of five. “This is your place?”
Well damn. Am I about to meet the wife of Zeus? That would be the only thing that could make this night complete. A jealous Hera punishing me for daring to think about her husband’s ass.
He turns off the ignition with a nod. “I’m renting it from Tanaka. He has a few houses in the neighborhood and this one was sitting empty. Too much space for only me, but I’m grateful. It’s going to take a while to get used to the quiet.”
I think about my busy apartment complex and the dorm before that, not to mention my crowded house growing up. I get where he’s coming from.
Carter has been in the military for most of his life. That’s not an environment conducive to elbowroom. After living like that for so long, you either crave silence, or you need noise and distraction and can’t sleep without the lights and the television on.
Helpful hint: choose your channel wisely. Dreams can get weird if you fall asleep during a Sharknado marathon.
“This is a lot of space for one guy. I don’t feel as bad about borrowing your guest room now.”
“You shouldn’t.” He gets out, coming around swiftly to open my door and help me to my feet. “Most of the second floor is a gym, but there’s one bedroom with a full bath up there, plus two guest rooms downstairs, so you can take your pick once we get you cleaned up.”
Did he say we? “I don’t know if I care about a shower as much as I do an available pillow.”
Not entirely true, because a large part of me needs to wash this experience away. But the louder voice is begging to be knocked unconscious for a while. To stop the wheels from spinning in my brain, worrying about things and people I can’t save or change.
Carter puts a sturdy arm around my waist and guides me up the walk, using his key and opening the front door with his free hand. “I wouldn’t be a good host if I didn’t make sure you were clean and fed and I at least checked your injuries. It won’t take long.”
I feel small beside him, though he only tops me by two inches. I think it’s more about what he exudes. Strong. Steady. Safe. I’m reacting to it, even though I know I shouldn’t be.
When I said I could take care of myself I meant it. I’ve been slapping on Band-Aids and cooking my own frozen dinners since I was old enough to reach the microwave.
Matilda was a first class cheerleader for personal freedom and a lioness if the cause was just, but if she’d ever stepped foot in the kitchen it was after I left for college. She was too busy working as a civil rights attorney and saving the world. She didn’t have time to stop and bake us cookies.
I could use the lioness right about now. And a cookie.
I take in as much as it can with my one good eye. Large foyer. Open kitchen and living room design, both of them individually bigger than my apartment. Both basically absent any decoration. Understandable, since he just moved in. Carter turns right down a hall and walks me through a bedroom. This must be his.
Jesus, that bed is enormous, I think, as he leads me to the master bath. Orgy-enormous. Harem-enormous. Does he have a harem hiding somewhere nearby?
“This place came furnished, but my room has the best shower,” he mutters out an explanation, making me wonder if I was thinking out loud again. “And the towels and first aid kit are here.”
He places a thick blue towel by the sink. “If you think you can clean up on your own, I’ll leave you to it while I scrounge up something to eat.”
And if I couldn’t he would what? Strip and join me? Rub soap all over my body with his bare hands to make sure I’m nice and clean? The possibilities are endless and tantalizing.
I poke my swollen eye to remind myself that now is not the time. “I’ll manage, thanks.”
He strides away before I can argue, shutting the door behind him.
I look in the mirror and wince. “Shitballs.”
Shit is what I look like. My hair—usually styled in thick waves that nearly reach my shoulders—is a nest. The light brown is dark with sweat and dirt.
It was an alley. You hope its dirt.
One sleeve of my flannel is torn at the shoulder and a few buttons are missing, but right now I’m more concerned about my face. I’ve never had a shiner before. Another first. My laugh becomes a moan as I cup my cheek. My jaw hurts and the inside of my cheek is cut, which must be where the blood came from. There’s also some bruising around my neck, but that’s it. It could have been so much worse.