Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Yesterday it stopped feeling like a harmless rebellion. She’d made a late night call to Tasha, used the vacation days she’d been hoarding and rented a car. She’d even called Erica and talked her into backing up her story. That woman owed her.
She felt like she was in high school again, sneaking off to a concert without her parents’ permission. Something she’d only done once and felt so guilty about she’d confessed the next morning, practically grounding herself.
Now she was coming to give her inconvenient secret husband a piece of her mind for getting her caught up in the seedy underbelly of…whatever it was he’d been up to. Warning him that he needed to watch out for his fine ass would be a necessary byproduct of that plan, but needs must.
She couldn’t let their late night conversations or his cute stuffed animal deliveries weaken her resolve or make her forget what was between them was only temporary.
William wasn’t hers, not really. He was trouble.
The exact kind of trouble that was currently standing on the sidewalk in front of her, squaring off with another man while a skinny blonde clung to him like a slutty barnacle.
“Feck off now,” William growled, anger thickening his accent. “Walk away or I’ll give you the fight you’ve been asking for. Same goes if you step foot on this property again.”
“This is Collins’ property, not yours,” The man slurred belligerently, obviously drunk in the middle of the day. “You can’t tell me shit. No ignorant busboy is gonna tell me how to treat what’s mine.”
The older man reached for the blonde but William sent him spinning to face the brick of the nearest wall, his arm twisted behind his back. “The lady asked for help and my boss, who does own this place and everything in it, told me to take out the trash. That gives me all the rights I need.”
“Let me go, damn it. You’re breaking my arm.”
William released him with a grimace of disgust, his temper on a tight leash. “I barely touched you and I don’t like repeating myself. Leave. Don’t come back.”
The drunk noticed his “lady” hanging on to William’s shirt and swore, staggering away without another glance in their direction.
Good lord, she must be having a hot flash, Bronte thought weakly. It had to be why she felt so warm, since she didn’t find that sexy at all. At. All.
Damn.
“You’re officially my hero,” Skinny Blonde gushed, leaning into him as if she might swoon at any second.
Oh hell no.
Watching William extricate himself from the clinging vine in one smooth, subtle motion was the only thing that held her back from making a scene.
“All part of the service,” he assured her with an easy, absent smile.
“For that kind of service you can call me Jean.” She reached for him again. “I’ve noticed you at the bar but I didn’t know you had that in you.” She smacked her lips, eyeballing his chest as if it were on the menu. “You were so…aggressive. It gave me all sorts of ideas.”
Bronte was getting a few of her own. Of the violent, hair-snatching variety.
“Do you have your phone? Your purse?” William ran his hand through his hair, shifting uncomfortably as he changed the subject. “The cab should be here any time now.”
“Are you free tonight, Willy?” The tramp didn’t know when to give up. “It looks like I’m single for the moment, but even if I wasn’t it wouldn’t matter. My old man can be a bear when he drinks, but he doesn’t mind sharing.”
And she was done.
“Willy isn’t free tonight, Jean. And in case you didn’t notice, he’s not interested in what you’re selling. Why don’t you just say thank you for the rescue, have some self-respect and move on?”
Skinny Blonde spun precariously on her heels and narrowed her eyes on Bronte, reminding her that she’d dressed for comfort on the long drive. Wearing a stretched out college sweatshirt and scrub bottoms that had once been a bright, cheerful shade of blue, she clearly didn’t register on the feminine threat scale for Paris Hilton’s trailer park twin.
“I don’t know who you are, ma’am, but you really need to move along and mind your own business.”
William, who’d started grinning as soon as he heard Bronte’s voice, winced at the woman’s tone.
She did not just ma’am me.
Oh yes she did.
“But this is my business, Jean. I’m his wife. And I’m sorry, but I’m not into sharing.”
Chapter Two
He didn’t know why Bronte was here, but only a fool questioned a miracle when it landed on his doorstep. His Nightingale was close enough to touch after three long months of separation.
Before he’d made a conscious decision to move he was beside her, slipping an arm around her waist to keep her from disappearing.
His fingers flexed and he swallowed a hungry moan. She was here. Right here in the edible flesh and, it seemed, ready to fight for her husband’s honor.