Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
That would hurt. Not gonna lie, that would really hurt.
“I’m done with him and his hot body and his big dick energy.” I’m really not though. “I need to find a solid citizen, someone who wants the same things I do: a home filled with half a dozen kids.”
“Good Lord, do you know what that would do to your body? Vaginal reconstructive surgery coming right up.”
“I can only hope.” Crawling into bed, I pull the covers up to my nose. “I’m going to sleep now. You should, too.”
“Happy dirty dreams,” Jess shoots back. The line goes dead, and soon after, I slip into a peaceful pseudo-coma courtesy of Rolling Rock beer and Darby French.
You would think growing up in Los Angeles would prepare you to handle earthquakes. You would think that, wouldn’t you?
Well, you would be wrong.
The bed shaking wakes me, but it takes me a moment to get my bearings and figure out exactly why. I was in the middle of a hot and heavy filthy dream featuring my fantasy man, so cut me some slack.
I jump out of bed and rush down the stairs to Mona’s bedroom, forgetting all about Darby. He almost knocks me over in their mad dash out the door, Darby in his jeans with the fly hanging open and Mona trailing him in her leopard print robe.
“Oh, sweetie,” Mona yelps. “Outside quick!”
All of us head for the front door while the earth keeps trembling beneath our feet. It’s impossible to run and we have to hold on to the walls as we go. What most people who haven’t experienced an earthquake don’t understand is that the ground doesn’t only shake side to side. It also moves up and down. The sensation is like being on the sea in a violent storm, which is why it’s so hard to keep your balance.
As soon as we make it outdoors, the animals running around and screaming is the first thing that hits me. I must’ve been sleeping like the dead not to have heard them. You can often tell an earthquake is about to hit by how the animals behave.
On the porch, I grab my cowboy boots and shove them on, my ass crashing to the ground because I can’t keep my balance. Then I join Darby, Mona, and Aidan, who didn’t bother with anything other than his boxer briefs, on the gravel driveway. Shane reaches them the same time I do. He’s in shorts and sneakers and if I wasn’t in the middle of a natural disaster, I would have time to appreciate his absolutely exquisite chest. Bastard.
The tremors finally stop and all of us glance at each other, then at the animals. In the distance, I can hear all the car alarms going off in town. It wasn’t the worst earthquake I’ve lived through and it wasn’t the longest.
“4.0,” Darby is the first to predict.
Aidan shakes his head. “4.5 at least.”
Shane doesn’t say anything. Instead, he peers down at me with an eyebrow hitched up, his mouth wavering into a potential smile.
“What?” Two days he’s been pretending I don’t exist and now he wants to be chummy because of a little earthquake? Yeah, I think not.
“Nice shirt.”
Oh. I look down and realize my mistake. I’m wearing his USMC t-shirt that I refuse to return. I shrug, deciding to go for broke. Collies can be vicious if provoked. “It’s a comfortable t-shirt. Don’t read anything into it.”
His mouth twitches in amusement. I’m not amused. In fact, I’m far from amused, my temper waking from hibernation.
“I can give it back to you right now if want?” I grab the shirt at the hem. It’s so big it hits the middle of my thigh. Lifting it, I get close to my panty line and he gently takes my arm.
The pads of his fingers glide carefully over the back of my upper arm, not lingering too long lest I get the wrong impression. God forbid. Well, I am getting all the wrong impressions. Every place he touches is scorched earth, destined to never forget that Shane Hughes has been there. This guy really brings out the worst in me.
“Stop,” he says quietly––quiet enough that the rest of them (all of whom have suddenly become amateur seismologists and are still arguing the Richter scale rating of this quake) can’t hear.
After a brief but aggressive eye duel, I walk away to check on the animals. Shane isn’t far behind. “Go away,” I order without missing a step.
Naturally, he doesn’t. I turn abruptly and he stops short, only a foot separating us. “What do you want, Shane?” I take a step back, so I’m not forced to tip back my head to see his face.
“I need to check that the structure isn’t compromised,” Shane murmurs. “You’re not going in that barn before me.”