Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Not Cortez.
But an even more unlikely person.
Ranger.
"The fuck are you doing here?" I asked, voice low. Why, I wasn't sure, since I could probably have a kegger in this joint without waking up Sloane who was curled up on me like she had been the night before - head on my chest, hand on my shoulder, knee between my legs.
Which, to be honest, was creating a bit of an issue when I was awake to notice it.
Because there was no way to deny that this woman was hot. Beautiful, really. And because I had gotten to see the more human - less cyborg - side of her all day, it was easier for me to accept my body's reaction to her.
It was all a front.
Not because she wanted to impress anyone - though I was sure that was a bonus she enjoyed - but because she came from a shit world, and she was doing everything in her power not to be seen as that girl with the shitty parents who likely came from a shitty area.
It was impressive that she had made her life what it was considering she came from those beginnings. I had judged her too prematurely, just assuming she was some trust fund baby, or some rich guy's arm candy.
But she had worked for every bit that she got.
A woman who hustled, who knew her worth, who demanded respect because of that, well, she was sexy.
Sloane was sexy.
And having her on my chest, smelling like those creams she smeared all over her skin, her long body curled into mine, her body warm and pliant, yeah, it was giving my cock ideas.
Ideas it needed not to get.
Since this was a job.
And you didn't fuck around on a job.
That was the rule.
The rule I had lectured Quin about breaking with Aven.
I wasn't going to repeat that myself.
Even though it had worked out for him.
That was the exception, not the rule.
The rule was you didn't fuck on the job.
Case closed.
"Helpless as a goddamn baby out here," Ranger rumbled at me, turning his giant back to me to go toward the fire, carefully placing a few more logs on it to get it going again.
"Doing fine," I countered, shrugging.
"Fine? Oh, you mean the half a drive you got going? Did you know they haven't run a plow down the main drag yet? Likely won't at this point."
"How'd you get here then?" I asked, watching as he dropped his ass down on the coffee table, sitting close, so we could keep our voices down. Which, well, wasn't exactly like him. Delicate and considerate were not words anyone would use to describe this giant brute of a man.
He was giant, first of all.
I was tall.
He dwarfed me.
I was in shape.
He made me look small by comparison.
His hair was black, eyes black, beard black, clothes... you guessed it, black. And if you asked any of the people we chucked his way to babysit - seeing as he was The Babysitter - they would likely claim his heart and soul was black as well.
To be fair, he was a decent enough man.
Just wild.
Just used to doing shit his own way.
He didn't put up with whining or laziness or emotional crap.
Ninety-nine percent of the time, he was alone in the middle of the fucking Pine Barrens, surrounded by nothing but nature.
That one percent when Quin had to throw someone into his temporary care, they quickly wished they had listened and done whatever Quin had demanded of them in the first place.
"A plow on the truck," he said, like I was an idiot for not thinking of that myself. "This is a new way of protecting a client," he added, jerking his chin toward Sloane.
"Her teeth chatter," I defended, not knowing why I felt like I needed to explain myself. He wasn't my boss. He had no say in how I handled my cases. And he wasn't one prone to gossiping since the fuck didn't even have a personal cellphone.
"It's a good seventy-degrees in here."
"I bet you that if I weren't right here, she'd be shaking."
"City chicks," he said, shaking his head, his voice implying that those words were perhaps the biggest insult he knew. Which, judging by the way he lived off the land, was likely exactly right.
"Did Quin send you?" I asked, knowing I had sent him a text explaining the situation.
"Heard the news. Figured this would be your situation. Grabbed you some shit to hold you over."
"What kind of shit?"
"Generator, some extra food, the connector you needed for the well. Gas. I'll plow you out, but I figured life would be easier with a city chick if she could shower and have heat." Which meant we'd be on our way. No more walking in on her sketching looking like a nerdier version of her usual self. No more of her opening up to me about her life, her past. No more of her clinging to me in her sleep, getting her addictive goddamn scent all over me. It was ridiculous, but I didn't want to leave for some reason. "Unless you want me to pack back up, and leave you two to your own devices."