Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“I don’t know,” I say instead. “I’m working on it. I can’t exactly call her favorite shops and restaurants to ask where my wife is without rousing suspicion. You know how this town talks.”
She nods, all too aware of small-town living and the rumor mill everyone is connected to.
“Now why are you really here?” I lift a brow at her. “This could have been a phone call. What else is going on?”
Aubrey shifts in her seat. Her cheeks slowly tinge pink. Whatever has her quietly evading the question is embarrassing to her.
“Aubrey Love,” I urge, using her first and middle name. “Tell me so I can help.”
Relief floods through her, taking some of the tension with it. Did she really think I’d mock her or send her away? I reach over and hook a finger under her chin, lifting her head so that she’s forced to look at me.
“Me and Dad…” She trails off, nostrils flaring. “We had a fight.”
“And you decided to come stay with us?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” she says icily. “Dad kicked me out.”
A hot burst of anger surges up my spine and straight to my head. “He what?”
“Apparently, I’m out of control.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “If I can’t find Mom, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.”
I grab hold of her hand, enveloping it between both of mine. The pink on her cheeks turns a deeper shade of crimson and causes her neck to turn splotchy in the same color.
“You come home,” I tell her in a fierce tone. “With me.”
“But—”
“I’ll talk to Spencer. He can get in line or he can get out. The boy doesn’t have his trust fund yet. We both know he’s not going to take option two, at least until he turns twenty-one.”
“I’ll need a new key. Mine is, uh, ruined.”
I squeeze her hand between mine, hoping to offer comfort. “I’m going to take care of you, Love. Whether I’m married to your mother or not. That’s a promise.”
Her smile is breathtaking. “I didn’t miss much about Park Mountain,” she murmurs and then eyes my mouth again, “but I did miss you.”
Words that should be sweet and benign are anything but. They tease at the shadowed parts of my mind, molding them and mutating them into something they’re not. Something they can’t ever be.
She’s my stepdaughter.
Young. Gorgeous. A rebellious little angel.
Certainly not anyone my cock should even think about reacting to. I clear my throat and release her warm hand, opting to clasp my fingers together, hiding my thickening cock that’s beginning to push against the zipper of my slacks.
“I missed you too, Love.”
Her glossy pillow lips part like she might say something more, but then she bites down on the bottom one, stopping her words. Finally, she says, “Is it okay if I hang out here until you get off work?”
Having her in my office while I try to do anything will prove to be impossible.
“Nah,” I say with a smile. “I’m taking the rest of the day off to spend time with my girl. When’s the last time you had that shitty pizza from that place near PMU?”
She groans happily. “Two years, Hugo. Two long years. Can we really go to Gerri’s Pizzeria?”
I wink at her. “Anything for you, Love.”
Her blush is back, and this time, I let the blood flow straight to my cock, selfishly stealing a moment of forbidden bliss… just this once.
Aubrey
Dad was right.
I’m a beacon for trouble.
That’s the only explanation for how I’ve behaved since stepping foot into Park Mountain not even two hours ago.
Antagonize stepbrother. Check.
Vandalize a luxury vehicle. Check.
Flirt with stepfather. Check.
I’d come here for a fresh start. Find Mom. Make amends. Try and finish my last year of high school with at least Cs rather than the Fs I was pulling in last year in LA. Stay far, far away from tattooed men with fast cars and dirty mouths.
I may have left the trouble I was knee-deep in, but I’ve already landed myself into a new heap of trouble.
“What have you been up to the past couple of years?” Hugo asks before sipping his soda. “I feel like there’s so much to catch up on.”
I try not to let my stare linger on his lips, but in my defense, it’s difficult. Hugo has a mouth that’s often curled into a genuine, welcoming smile. His teeth are white, perfect, and probably cost a fortune. I can’t help but fixate on his lips—light red and full. They look so soft and kissable.
A burst of heat burns down my spine, coiling in the pit of my core. Why am I this way? I’m forever lusting over what I shouldn’t have. It’s a personality trait I’m not proud of.
“Not much,” I say, choosing to turn my focus on a breadstick, dipping it into the homemade marinara sauce I’ve been dreaming about for far too long. “Trying and failing to stay out of trouble according to Dad.”