Romancing the Sheriff (Galentine’s Getaway #1) Read Online Mia Brody

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Galentine's Getaway Series by Mia Brody
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Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
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While Woofer relieves himself, my phone vibrates with more text messages. I already know it’s Amanda. She’s been calling and texting all night. I’d think that after a while my lack of response would clue her in. But I suspect she thinks it’s some type of game. It’s not. There’s only one woman I’m interested in and she’s currently drunk in the cabin behind me.

Once the little dog has finished, I take him back inside. Now Zoey is in her bedroom. She’s dressed only in a black t-shirt and a pair of tanga panties. When she stretches her arms behind her head and gives a yawn, I see an enticing glimpse of her rounded stomach.

If she were sober, I’d love to crawl into bed with her and spend the night taking care of the virginity issue. But that can’t happen tonight. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Gently, I guide her into the bed and tuck the covers around her. It surprises me just how much I like taking care of her. I never thought I really had it in me to do that. I always figured I was more of the charge in and rescue type. “Sleep tight.”

She blinks up at me, all innocent green eyes. They fill with tears. “So alone now. Parents gone. Nana gone. Zola gone. Zo is all alone.”

My heart hurts at her words. I don’t want Zoey to be alone in the world. She deserves more than that. She deserves to be surrounded by family and friends that cherish her, that recognize how special she is.

Since she’s under all these thick blankets, I can’t reach for her hand. Instead, I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

She nods and her eyes drift closed. I can only pray that she has sweet, soothing dreams. That she isn’t haunted by the loneliness in her sleep.

Getting up, I grab a bottle of pain relievers and a water, putting them on the bedside table. Her breathing is even and steady, though she’s not fully asleep yet. Probably just drifting.

Woofer pushes his way in through the cracked door and gives me a pleading look. “Do you normally sleep on the bed with her?” I ask then realize the little guy can’t answer me. “Well, tell you what. You can tonight.”

Picking him up, I set the tiny dog on the bed gently. He instantly moves to the pillows and takes a spot next to Zoey’s head. He’s obviously used to sleeping with her. Lucky dog.

I’m almost out the bedroom door when Zoey’s voice stops me. In a pleading tone, she whispers, “Stay tonight.”

If it weren’t for her earlier confession, I’d be a stronger man and go. But the thought of Zoey in an unfamiliar place feeling sad and lonely makes my gut churn. I want to be the man that makes her bad days better, that turns her gray skies blue.

Kicking off my shoes, I say, “OK, but you better not be a blanket hog.”

She nods solemnly, her gaze still glassy and cheeks flushed. “I can be a good sharer.”

I join her on the bed and true to her word, she gives me some of the blankets. Her curvy body has already warmed the small bed and she scoots closer, cuddling into my chest.

“You smell nice,” she says with a soft sigh.

A rush of contentment fills me. It’s a peace I didn’t even know that I’ve been looking for. But with her in my arms, I know I’ve found it. I’ve found the serenity I need. Now, I just have to find a way to convince her we’re meant to be together.

8

ZOEY

When I wake, the first thing I notice is my pounding head followed by the feeling that my face is smooshed up against a hard rock. I mean, it’s a great smelling rock. Like pine and masculine cologne and oh, no.

I finally register that my face isn’t smooshed against a hard rock. No, that would be Brock’s solid chest that I’ve burrowed my face into. To make matters worse, I’m drooling. In fact, there’s a huge puddle of drool on his t-shirt when I pull away from him.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice deep and rumbly from sleep.

“Morning,” I squeak, trying to wipe at my face without drawing attention to the fact that I nearly drowned both of us. Why does this man have to be so hot?

He pushes himself into a sitting position and rakes his hand through his hair. For a weird reason, I feel like he did that last night. But what exactly happened?

I remember drinking with the girls. I definitely had some alcohol if this thumping headache is anything to go by.

As if he’s reading my thoughts, he says, “There’s water and meds on the nightstand.”

I move from the bed and swallow several of the pills, grateful he had the foresight to have these ready. That’s when I look down and realize I’m only in my t-shirt and underwear. The cheeky ones that show off my ass. How does this keep happening around him?


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