Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I attempt to clear my mind of all the things I can’t control at the moment, but that leaves room for the things I wish I had.
His hand shifts, the right one releasing the steering wheel to make a slight adjustment to the air conditioner vent.
I can easily recall how those fingers felt on me three years ago. They never stuttered or stammered. His touch was sure, just as needy as mine was. We were both all-in in the hours we spent together. Maybe it’s something he does often, but it was an eye-opening experience for me. There hasn’t been a man who’s compared since. I haven’t even gotten past the first kiss with anyone since that night. I went on one blind date that Janet encouraged me to go on with a single dad from Jace’s kindergarten class before Sutton even turned one, but it was a disaster. I don’t think the guy was a jerk, but he was overly eager, and it left me feeling a little turned off. I never attempted to date again after that.
“Unless you’re not,” Vincent says, pulling my attention back to him.
“I’m sorry. What?”
“Lunch? Are you hungry?”
“I love chicken nuggets,” Luca says, never afraid to express his needs the way his older brother is.
“I like chicken nuggets, too,” I add with a smile.
“We’re going to drive to the next town, which is half an hour away, and then we’ll find lunch,” he explains to the kids.
I don’t bother pulling my eyes from him when he darts a look my way. Maybe I should. I have no business thinking anything about this man. I shouldn’t let in thoughts and ideas of what a future would look like with him involved, and I sure as hell shouldn’t let my mind wander back to the night we spent together.
The man hasn’t made any type of overture, not that I’d expect him to with three kids with us. Hell, I can’t even think that way because my mind will quickly try and create a situation where we’re completely alone and it’s exactly what he’s been waiting for to pounce on me.
I settle back into that familiar voice that tells me he hates me, but he’s a nice guy so he’s tolerating me. It’s the same voice that infiltrated my head in my dreams last night where he was getting us all on his turf before kicking me to the curb. He carried us to New Mexico just so he had a group of people supporting him before he made me leave.
That dream is why I was so out of sorts when I woke up and found the kids gone. I was in a full-blown panic before I found the note. The voice in my head told me it was just a distraction, a way for him to get me to let my guard down so he could get away easier. If the vehicle keys weren’t on the little desk in the room, I would’ve been in tears by the time I made it back down to the lobby.
I knew I had trust issues, but until that monologue started in my head, I didn’t know how much.
A part of my mind tells me I’m crazy because he hasn’t done a damn thing to make me think he’s going to take the kids from me, but there’s another part that says there’s still a chance he’ll try.
Chapter 19
Stormy
“It’s fancy,” Jace says, looking around the restaurant.
“Let’s hope the food is good,” I say, picking up the red crayon and doodling on the edge of the paper menu that was provided to one of the kids.
After fast food for lunch, I demanded real food for dinner. It’s how we ended up here—in a restaurant where it’s very clear we’re underdressed for. I’m used to getting stares from people, but normally they would come from my leather vest. I haven’t put it back on since right after Keres showed up outside of the Clarke home. I didn’t want to risk anyone discovering where I’m from.
The waitress immediately took our order when she brought our drinks, Jace ordering a cheeseburger and Luca a grilled cheese.
“And for this little cutie?” she asks, pointing the end of her pen toward Sutton.
“She’ll eat off my plate. I’d like the—”
“Get Sutton her own meal,” I say.
“I’d like the baked chicken quarter with a side salad and the home-style green beans, please,” Mila tells her with a smile, refusing to look in my direction despite the pink heating her cheeks.
I order a steak and a couple of sides, feeling like an asshole. The waitress doesn’t say a word, but she also doesn’t miss the look Mila gives me before ordering her food.
“Anything else?” she asks, looking like the only thing she wants to do is run away from this awkward-as-hell situation.