Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I found myself grinning when Sunny looked to the ceiling. “I can’t believe you told them all of this, Davis. It was confidential. I only let you sit in on it because I knew you’d have questions. That was a courtesy I didn’t have to give you.”
“You do realize, correct, that the person wanting her bullet points fact-checked is actually the smartest hacker we know and goes to freakin’ conventions where she meets other hackers and makes great friends with them.” He paused. “So if she wanted, needed, or couldn’t get something, she would also have a lifeline through other hackers…anyway, what I’m so ineloquently trying to say is, she could’ve gotten all of this information herself. At least with me telling her, she didn’t hack into the sheriff’s department.”
Folsom snickered.
“And five, the dude gets fired. Davis gets to beat him up. They both get put into jail so ‘Bobblehead’ will calm down. And while they’re both in jail, Davis decides to pop the question, and ol’ completely gone for him over there says yes because she’s a glutton for punishment,” Folsom finishes, dropping her hand into her lap.
That’s when I looked over and saw Greer grinning like a fool.
God, she got off on how I asked her just as much as I did.
“I can’t believe this.” Carrie shook her head. “This is all insane.”
“This is my life.” Greer shrugged. “At least, in the end, my mom decided to turn into the good guy.”
“Yeah,” Carrie sighed. “Do you need a receptionist?”
I was already shaking my head. “Oh, boy.”
EPILOGUE
Easily distracted by cows.
-T-shirt
GREER
I pulled out my phone and texted him.
Me: I know that you’re at work.
Me: But I have to know.
Me: You put your shoes on really angrily today while you were trying not to wake me. And now I have to know…
Me: Do you still love me?
I knew that he still loved me.
Honestly, he was a tad aggressive with his boots today, but mostly because one of the birds had dropped birdseed into both of his boots. And he’d stuck his foot into both of them before he’d realized it.
He most definitely wasn’t mad at me.
He answered within ten seconds.
Him: I feel like maybe you need to see a psychiatrist. Are you sure you’re not suffering from postpartum depression?
That ass.
Me: I’m fairly sure that I’m a happy person. Unless you leave with stompy feet. Then I start to question my life choices.
I could practically feel him rolling his eyes.
However, before I could read his response or tease him more, a knock on the door distracted me.
I turned to answer it, my baby strapped to my chest in a contraption that our pediatrician suggested for her fussiness, and smiled when I saw who was at the door.
“Hello.” I smiled.
Carrie grinned at me. “I have some paperwork for you to sign, and I decided to wheel my ass down here instead of disrupting the nurse’s day.”
I rolled my eyes and widened the door.
Carrie still lived in the same house she had last year at this time. Davis, when he’d learned that I was pregnant, had bought the house two down from his old one. Then he’d completely renovated it top to bottom before he moved us in.
While he was doing that, he’d also had Etienne, the club’s construction guru, working on my shop.
My storefront had gone from something local to something global. My Etsy store had taken off, and not only had blinged-out deer and random animals been a hit, I’d been featured in national news when some bigwig in the government had one in the background of his news broadcast. I’d gone viral in three days, and now I had so many orders that I’d had to hire help.
Carrie was a godsend. She kept me in line, the business running, and things nice and smooth while allowing me the time to focus on what I loved.
And for now, what I loved was my new little, itty-bitty, curly red-haired baby girl, Brennan Ruth Davis.
Speaking of the last name Davis, I was married two months ago in an outdoor wedding on the beach. It was intimate, had only Carrie, Finn and Sara, and everything that I’d ever wanted. Finn even got ordained so we could keep it small.
Which made our curly-haired monster legitimate as fuck.
“Let me see her,” Carrie urged.
In the last two weeks since we’d had Brennan, I’d gotten absolutely nothing done. Not even a shower that lasted more than three minutes. According to the pediatrician, the screaming was normal.
Sadly, the only person that’d been good at keeping her calm and happy had to go back to work.
Leaving me home today, my first day alone, to deal with Her Fussiness.
I turned so that Carrie could see Brennan.
“She’s sleeping,” Carrie said in surprise.
I snorted. “I think it’s because I put these in there.” I showed her the cardboard pieces. “It feels harder, like Davis’s chest.”