Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
But I will if I spend another second in his presence.
When I get to my vehicle, wishing I could give my brain a bleach bath, there’s a text from Ophelia apologizing. She’s running late to get Nell from school.
Don’t worry about it. On my way now, I send back.
Then I settle in, gripping the wheel until my knuckles turn white, trying to breathe.
How do I do this?
How do I have a normal evening with my girl when her sister’s shacked up with Lucifer?
And I’ll be damned if I let his nauseating insanity throw another wrench in her life—or in mine.
Before I leave, I put my hand over the badge on my chest, swearing a silent oath to Philia, to Ethan, maybe to God himself.
To everything I am.
I will get that demon fuck away from the Sanderson girls, come hell or high water.
I just need to breathe, bide my time, and wait for the scum to give me a chance.
12
ONE LONG NIGHT (OPHELIA)
By the time I make it back to Grant’s house, he’s already home.
Both his truck and patrol car are parked neatly in the driveway.
Nell’s out front, bundled up to her neck against the cold as she kicks her legs on the tree swing. Another nice reminder I forgot to go shopping for a coat yet again.
I’m a little glad Grant stepped in to pick her up.
It almost completely fell out of my head after thinking I saw someone lurking around my car.
Whoops. I hope they won’t be mad.
When I park and step out with a hundred apologies ready for the little girl, though, Nell goes rocketing off the swing and launches herself at me.
“Miss Philia!”
Laughing, I catch her as she glues herself on in a tight hug, burying her face against me.
“Hey, hon.” I ruffle her hair and crouch down. “You have a good day at school? Sorry I missed you.”
“Yeah! I always do,” she announces triumphantly. “I’m the smartest in my class.”
“And not shy on confidence, either.” Grinning, I tug at one of her springy curls. “Where’s your uncle Grant?”
“Upstairs, showering.” She scrunches her nose up dramatically. “He smelled like pig poo. So he was really in a hurry.” Eyes wide, she leans in, whispering to me in the loudest whisper I’ve ever heard. “And I think he didn’t want you to smell him.”
“Well, good.” I laugh again. “I wouldn’t want him to smell me if I was doused in pig stink.”
She brightens. “’Cause you like him a lot?”
I sputter, then sigh. “Because I like him a whole lot. I have for a long time. Maybe since I was as small as you.”
Nell’s eyes go round. “Are you gonna make more kissy-faces at the movies then?”
“Not in front of you, kiddo.” Not to mention everyone else who shows up for a family-friendly film. I stand, idly draping my arm around her shoulders. “C’mon inside with me. It’s getting dark. Did you finish your homework?”
“Not yet,” she pouts, but follows me in without protest.
“Why don’t you settle in and wrap up while I go get changed and say hi to your uncle?” I kick the door shut behind me, already heading for the stairs, but that little imp’s voice follows me.
“You gonna make yourself pretty for Uncle Grant?”
I look back with my eyes narrowed to find her bouncing onto the couch, watching me over the back of it with a wide, knowing grin.
“And if I am?”
“You worry too much,” she announces decisively. “He’ll think you’re pretty no matter what! Even if you smell like pig crap.”
“I—you—” I clam up.
I must have it bad.
If a nine-year-old girl can get me this flustered over a crush and make me blush this hard, I’m so screwed.
“You’re red, Miss Philia. Is that part of your look too?”
I mock-scowl.
“Do your homework, babe, or I’ll feed you to the gremlins.”
“Psssh, gremlins aren’t real.” Totally unfazed, she flips herself around to start digging in her backpack.
Little monster.
Still struggling with my red-hot face, I head upstairs and crest the top of the landing just as the bathroom door opens.
There goes the slightest hope of killing my blush.
Grant steps out, gloriously naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist.
His muscle-bound dad bod is so thick the flimsy towel barely holds the tattooed god underneath, hanging open in a slit over one brawny tanned thigh.
Somebody save me.
He’s added some serious ink over the years and it only makes him hotter.
I haven’t seen Grant this shirtless since he was a teenager—the old family trips to the lake, the beach, his parents and my mom teaming up to drag us all along. Back then, he was strong and golden and toned, but still a boy.
A little lanky. A lot less built. Not filled out by raw power and life and testosterone like he is now.
The beast before me now is all man.