Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
I will love them both forever for giving that to her.
Of course, with Alicia no longer worried the beast inside her would murder everyone she loved, Ranger nailed her down quick. Their wedding was two weeks ago, and between moving her stuff, sprucing up the farmhouse and yard so we could hold the ceremony here, my mom and stepdad flying in to help and staying here after for a short vacation—along with Ranger’s family, who were also in town and visiting the farmhouse all the time—it’s only in the past day or two that things have settled down.
So now it’s just Brandon and me. Until he goes.
But I’m not in a hurry to see him gone. I’ve got other friends, people who I’ve known for longer than I’ve known Brandon, but none that I’ve clicked with so fast and so hard. I don’t want to give that up.
Lucky for me, he also doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave.
For a big man, he’s quiet on his bare feet. He hardly makes a sound coming up the porch steps, his gaze running over me and settling on the beer bottle I’m holding casually against my upper thigh.
He waggles his brows. “Someone’s happy to see me.”
“Beer dicks aren’t exactly picky,” I say dryly. “And even if they were, it doesn’t take a whole lot to make me happy. Just this morning, I got excited when a bendy straw came with my iced coffee.”
“Aw heck, Sergeant Sam,” he says in his deep and rumbling voice, and with a grin that shows all his teeth. “I can give you a—”
“Nope.” I cut him off and point my bottle dick at him. “You’re going to say that your straw is only bendy when you’re not excited, or that you can give me something to suck on. Just keep those lips zippered up.”
“As long as I can unzip—”
“Nope.”
An exasperated breath gusts out of him and he drops into the oversize recliner that we dragged out here after I’d noped him for another comment, and he’d replied that the only reason I always knew what he intended to say is because my mind is as filthy as his.
Which, okay.
True.
But then he’d done the same heavy flop onto this bench swing and snapped the chains, tipping both our asses into a tangled heap on the porch.
I’d laughed until my sides hurt. Then he’d fixed the swing.
That was the day I knew we could only be friends, because I never wanted to lose him.
“I’ll try to keep it zipped,” he tells me, reaching over and snagging my beer. “Even though it’ll be very, very…hard.”
I glare at him but let it go. Mostly because I’m internally snickering too much to tell him nope again.
He sniffs my beer, then hands it back without taking a drink.
“Not up to your lofty ursine standards?” I ask.
“It’s honey mead or nothing for me.”
“Really?” Alcohol doesn’t have an effect on werewolves or berserkers, so I’ve never seen him drink any at all. Now I’m wondering if I should stock some. “Where do you even find honey mead?”
His feet go up next to mine on the railing. Huge feet. “Renaissance faires, maybe.”
“Maybe?” I’m still distracted by the size of his feet next to my boots.
“Or Viking halls.” He scratches his belly. “What day is today?”
“August nineteenth.”
“But what day?”
“Wednesday.”
“You usually work Wednesday nights. Did your shift change?”
I shake my head. “I always take August nineteenth off.”
“Oh?” His gaze is on me. I can feel it, though I’m looking out over the yard. No, I’m looking further than that—about twenty years into the past. “What’s today?”
“My dad’s birthday.”
“Ah.” That soft reply is all he makes.
I’m not going to spill my guts. I’m not. Maybe he already knows, though. “Did Alicia ever tell you what happened?”
“Only that he died. Not how or when.”
“I was eight. And he was with the sheriff’s department, too. Same job as me, though higher up the chain by then. He pulled over a vehicle on a routine traffic stop, got sideswiped by an asshole in a semi.” I purse my lips. “He’s one of the reasons there’s that law now about slowing down or changing lanes while passing emergency vehicles.”
“I have no fucking idea what to say. Except that I’m sorry he was taken from you. From your family.”
Not much else to say. I nod and bottoms-up my beer.
He’s still watching me. “Is this the first year your mom and Alicia are both living somewhere else?”
“Yep.” My mom’s in Florida with her new husband, and my sister is in town with Ranger. “But I had dinner with Alicia. And talked to Mom.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.” Just so I don’t have to look at him while I’m a bit wobbly on the inside, I concentrate on picking at the edge of the beer label. My nails are short. With Alicia’s claws, I could probably just peel the fucker right off. Or Ranger’s claws. Or Brandon’s. “Would it hurt you at all—getting hit by a truck?”