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)
Carter lifts his hand, gently tracing my sore jaw. “These are the facts. I’m not leaving you alone until the idiots who did this are in police custody. Simple as that. It’s not happening. So either I’m staying here and sleeping in…” he looks around dubiously. “On the floor. Or you’re coming back home with me.”
His gaze drops to my lips and something flares to life in his eyes, making our situation harder to deny. Since I woke up, I’d been trying to defuse my reaction to him. Telling myself he reminds me of my foster parents. Those two would bend over backwards to save a troubled child, and I think Carter would get along with them. They’re practically the same age.
But despite his reasoning and mine this—his touch and the way he’s been treating me? It feels like attraction. As in not parental. As in mutual.
As in still delusional?
Maybe. Either way, what in the hell am I supposed to do with that?
I give my trashed apartment another quick glance and shake my head. The facts, he said. The fact is I don’t want to stay here alone just to prove I can. He’s right. I’m not in any shape to accomplish more than brooding over what’s already happened. I’ve got no computer, no flat screen and no one I’m willing to call and whine about my life to.
Usually, I’d suck it up and deal, but when it comes down to it, I think I’d rather exist in a state of semi-permanent arousal from his heated glances and constant attention than cuddle up for the night with nothing but my wounded pride.
Screw pride, anyway. At least for another day or two, give me a protective Alpha male that smells like sex in the woods and wants to make me dinner.
Sorry, Matilda.
“Only for a night,” I finally concede. “Two tops. And we’ll be making a few stops before we go back to your house. There are things I need.”
“What are we getting?” He doesn’t conceal his surprised smile. I think he was expecting more of an argument. “I already have a television, so you don’t have to worry about that right now.”
“I’m getting a new laptop and a few gallons worth of Moose Tracks,” I tell him. Maybe some lube, if I can sneak it by him. “And I’m buying the groceries for dinner. It’s the least I can do and it’s nonnegotiable.”
I can tell he wants to argue but he wisely decides against it. “As long as I can carry the bags and there’s a pint of pistachio, I’m in.”
“Our friendship is over. Pistachio?”
“Like Moose Tracks sounds so appetizing?” He counters with a chuckle as he stands there, hands on his hips like my own personal superhero.
I’ll convert him. He’ll be as obsessed as I am by the time I’m through with him.
Are we still talking about ice cream?
Maybe. All I know is my sex drive is back with a vengeance. In case anyone was worried about that.
Chapter Five
“I think I accidentally activated my second phone tree in your honor, Green.” Wyatt glances up from his plate, barbecue sauce coating a bashful smile. “Though if anyone asks, I’m blaming Seamus for both of them.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” And what was his first phone tree about?
“I told my cousin what happened to you. He told his husband, who called Ken. Of course he and Brady had already heard about it from Carter, so as we speak they’re installing security cameras and getting Trick—that’s one of my cousin Jen’s guys—to recommend someone who can keep an eye out as well.”
“That’s…” Confusing, probably expensive and fills me with guilt. “Wow, okay, I’m not going to ask about your cousin having multiple guys because that would be inappropriate, but the other thing? That’s a bit of an over the top response for one freak occurrence. Did you explain the fact that it happened because of me? If I’d changed my plans and not gone to the pub for my da—”
“I hope you’re not trying to say any of this was your fault,” Fiona interrupts severely. “And you can’t count him as a date anymore, either.”
“No, but maybe it’s—”
“Maybe it’s my fault.” Wyatt is no longer smiling. “I knew there was something off about him. He was too jumpy. I should have knocked that punk on his ass instead of asking him to leave.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything, Wyatt. There was no way you could have known what he was planning. I didn’t see it either, and I’m usually good at sizing people up.”
I keep remembering the nerves Brent exhibited, the way he held his phone so tightly I was surprised it didn’t crack. But that’s normal for a blind date. None of it screamed, “I’m holding you here for a friend so we can use you as a punching bag.”