Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I should call my dad–working for the sheriff’s office meant he was good with emergencies. But no. No. Something stopped me.
Dad was overprotective as hell. After taking me to the ER for a drug test–because he’d totally think Tyler had drugged me to have his way with me or something ridiculous–he’d probably throw Tyler in jail without asking questions first. And Tyler hadn’t hurt me. The opposite. He’d been protecting me. He’d pushed me behind him to fight off a mountain lion.
A mountain lion.
He was a hero, not a monster.
A monster-shaped hero.
Maybe I should take his call and hear what he had to say. I paced around Nana’s tiny house, grateful I at least had my own space to think this through.
After Nana moved into a retirement home earlier this summer, I moved in. Dad wanted to sell the place to help fund her retirement, but she insisted that she was just “trying out” the community and that she needed me to keep her place homey in case she returned. I suspected she was handing me my freedom since the community college I attended didn’t have campus housing, and my dad wanted me to stay at home.
Yup, overprotective. Ever since Mom left us, he was a little over the top. Which meant for most of my life.
I stopped pacing and stared at my phone, my thumb hovering over Tyler’s name. Should I call him? My heart still beat unnaturally fast. My breath fell in quick pants.
Maybe I needed a shower. I always did my best thinking in the shower. Besides, that hike–and run–left me covered in dust and sweat. I headed to the bathroom, turned on the water, and stripped out of my dusty clothes.
I stepped in and let the water cascade over my head.
Yes.
This was what I needed. My thoughts didn’t clear, but at least the warm spray felt good. My muscles started to relax.
I should call Tyler back. Yeah. That made sense. He was the only person to give me answers to the questions circling my brain.
After shampooing, conditioning, shaving, and everything else I could think of to stalling and hearing the truth, I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel to dry off.
“Riley?” A man’s deep voice called from the living room.
Shit. My pulse rocketed back to epic speeds. So much for calming my nervous system. Damn small towns where people walked through open doors. Dad was going to kill me for not locking mine.
“Who is it?” I called back, grabbing my short pink satin robe and stuffing my wet arms into the sleeves. I threw the door open and shrieked because the owner of the voice–all six foot three of him–stood just outside. “Oh!”
I recognized him, but my brain was so muddled from the mountain lion incident that I was still putting it together. Mr. McIntire, the gorgeous owner of Cody’s Saloon, was in my hallway, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. Cooper Valley was a small town, so I knew him–he was a notorious player–flirty and friendly with all the women, but I didn’t know that he knew me.
“I’m sorry to scare you, sugar. I knocked, and you didn’t answer. I got worried. Now I know why.” Mr. McIntire took off his cowboy hat and leaned against the hallway wall as if to give me space. His eyes crinkled as he shot me a lopsided smile. Uh, wow. This man gave Hollywood actor vibes with his dark hair and blue eyes. The neatly trimmed beard gave him a rugged, cowboy look, enhancing the square jaw and dimpled chin.
There was an apology in his expression, but not genuine remorse. As if he knew he shouldn’t be in Nana’s house, but he wasn’t leaving, either.
The closeness to this delicious display of manhood further discombobulated my already confused brain.
I sensed his attraction to me. Even though his gaze didn’t stray below my eyes, I knew he registered the fact that I was standing in front of him, dripping wet, naked underneath the short robe that I hadn’t even finished tying.
His eyes glowed with appreciation.
His eyes glowed.
I blinked. Oh my God. I was an idiot! This was Mr. McIntire. As in Tyler’s dad.
Was he a wolf, too?
I sucked in a breath and tightened the robe’s sash. “Um, what are you doing here, Mr. McIntire?” I cursed the warble in my voice.
He stepped closer and touched one of my shoulders. The corded muscles of his forearm flexed as he reached out. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”
My body responded to his touch, to his nearness. To his masculine scent and the sight of the bulging muscles of his arm and chest. He wore a snap-button shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, showing off his strong, tanned forearms. It made my mouth water and other parts of my body get wet, too.