Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Once at the door, Cole looked out the glass on the side and opened the door a crack, his hand on his holstered weapon.
Jeez, she thought. Overkill much?
He spoke to someone through the small crack in the door, then opened it wider and returned with a vase full of yellow roses. Her favorite.
“I wonder who they’re from,” she said, excitement in her voice, since what woman didn’t like receiving roses?
Cole’s expression darkened as he placed them on the table. She reached for the card, reading the short inscription:
Take care of yourself and don’t rush back till you’re up to it. Evan.
“Well?” Annoyance threaded through Cole’s tone.
“No one important.”
He reached out and snatched the card from her hand.
“Hey! That’s private!”
“What if it’s from the shooter?”
He read the words, and his scowl deepened. “Who the hell is Evan?”
“Evan Carmichael. My boss.”
Cole muttered something under his breath.
“What did you say?” she asked, attempting for civility. At this rate, they were going to kill each other.
“Nothing.” He sat back down in front of the television and didn’t say another word.
Erin rolled her eyes. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was jealous. But Cole’s past actions taught her he wouldn’t get jealous of anyone or anything in Erin’s life. And he never would.
* * *
A couple of days into their new living arrangement, Cole was doing pushups in the guest room of her house, doing his best not to think about Erin when a knock sounded.
“Come in.”
She stepped inside as he maneuvered to his feet, noting her gaze staring at his sweaty body.
“I forgot, but I need to go out,” she said.
“I see that.” He took in her jeans, black silk top, and ballet flats. “Where are we going?”
She narrowed her gaze at his use of the word we. “I meet clients on Thursday nights at an office downtown.”
“You’re not supposed to work for a week,” he reminded her.
“It’s just tonight, and I don’t want to argue about it.”
He raised an eyebrow and asked, “How far downtown?”
“All the way. Next door to Lynette’s Diner.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Not a neighborhood I want you in at night.”
“Too bad. I’m going. Which, as you so eloquently told me, means you’re going. It’s bad enough to bail on my day job, but these people count on me in a whole different way.” Without explaining further, she started to leave but turned back for a minute. “Meet me downstairs when you’re ready.” She paused. “Please.”
He hadn’t expected to go out tonight, but one look at her determined expression, and he decided not to fight this particular battle. A little while later, Cole parked Erin’s Jeep in a dimly lit parking spot and walked with her into a small office next door to Lynette’s.
When he reached the entrance and looked up at the writing above the door, the name explained everything. “Pro bono, huh?”
Erin shot him a proud grin and grabbed the door handle before he could do it for her.
Inside, the waiting room was full of people, mostly women, many of whom had young children with them. Although some didn’t look up when they walked in, and others glanced warily at Cole, the kids all perked up when they saw Erin.
“Erin!” A little girl with two missing front teeth ran up to her with a huge grin.
“Hi, Merry!” Erin knelt so she was eye level with the child. “How are you?”
“Good. Mommy said if you can get money from my dad, then maybe we can leave the shelter soon and find a real ’partment of our own.”
“I’ll do my best,” she promised the child.
Cole’s heart clenched at the seriousness of the girl’s words. Such huge hope and such a sad situation. Yet she looked up at Erin with such faith, even Cole wanted to believe she could perform miracles.
He accepted her request that he sit outside her door, client confidentiality being of paramount importance, especially for this kind of client. And he waited for the next four hours as she worked with as many people as walked through her office, never turning anyone away. Not even when her eyes were closing from exhaustion, and he caught her mid-yawn when she walked her second-to-last client out.
He knew it was her second-to-last client because he’d turned the lock on the front door. She was pregnant, had been shot, and needed rest. She’d have to forgive him, assuming she even realized. But thankfully, she didn’t.
“Arm hurt?” he asked as he helped her get settled in the car after the final client of the night.
“Badly.”
He managed not to growl at her for overdoing it and climbed into the driver’s seat and got them on the road. “Those women rely on you.”
“They do.” She leaned her head against the window.
“Makes me wonder what my mom would have done if she’d had a place like this to come to,” he said, staring into the dark night as he drove.