Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
“Not with this. You keep inside where it’s warm.” He gives me another kiss before he’s out of the bed. Bear jumps up and takes his spot while Saint gets dressed. “Come on.” He calls him when he’s ready to head out. I give Bear a kiss on top of his head before he follows Saint out of the room.
I stretch, taking my time to get up and find a new pair of pajamas. I head to the kitchen to preheat the oven and start some coffee for Saint. I make my way into the living room next to turn on all the Christmas decorations and pause when I see a bunch of gifts under the tree. Having no self-control, of course I peek at them, seeing my name written on the tags. What the hell! I didn’t get him anything. How the heck has he managed to get me all of this?
I wonder if I could order a few things and get them delivered in a few days. I know with how bad the storm is that my idea is not a reality. I try to think of something I could make besides food. The only thing I can think of is one of those coupon books, the type you made as a kid for your parents. Of course mine would be filled with dirty things instead of promises to do chores. It’s a silly idea, but it’s the best I’ve got so far.
I make my way toward Saint’s office. I’ve never actually been inside it. He has gone in a few times, and when he did he’d left the door open, giving me a peek inside. It’s rather impressive. One whole wall is filled with screens. He told me there was no place off-limits to me. That I was free to roam.
I turn the knob, letting myself in. I go over to the printer and pull some papers out before I open one of the drawers of his desk, finding some scissors and something to write with.
“What the heck?” I smile, seeing a printed picture of me. One I know is from my social media.
Of course my internet hacker boyfriend stalked me online. That’s really not shocking, but it’s sweet he printed off some of the pictures of me. Under a few of the pictures is a folder. I open it. A nice stack of papers is inside.
As I flip through them, I realize it is likely everything you could find about a person online. And I don’t mean what a normal person could easily look up. The info here had to be collected by someone with experience in computers. Not only is there crap about my house, but it goes all the way back to my freaking high school transcripts. Saint has even done some digging on the rest of my family as well. Some of the papers are time stamped. He’s been at this for months.
“Marley.” I spin around, my heart starting to pound. Saint stands in the doorway of his office.
“Can you explain this to me?” I ask, holding up the folder. I jumped to all kinds of conclusions when I’d found the clothes in his closet. So this time I want to give him a chance to tell me why he has all of this stuff.
“No.”
“No?” I repeat, dropping it back down onto his desk.
“It is what you think it is.” He reaches up, grabbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been digging up anything and everything I could find on you since we met. I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Never can when it comes to you. No matter how many times I tell myself I will only peek, it never works. I keep on taking and pushing where you're concerned.”
“How far? Is this the worst of it?” I push back, wanting to know.
“I love you.” He takes a step into the room.
Those words felt so good coming from him last night. Everything about these past few days has been more than good. A bit too good to be true. I’m starting to understand how Saint knows so many things about me. It also explains why he has a pantry overflowing with Reese’s Christmas trees. The man has everything I love under this roof. He's been in cahoots with Arthur for sure.
“I get that. Now answer me.” He lifts his brows, not used to me being so firm with him. I know I’m a deputy, but I’m usually as soft as a marshmallow. It’s why I don’t get sent out on serious stuff. I get the calls that consist of two locals fighting over who’s going to get the last piece of Mrs. Becker’s apple pie.
“I listened in on your radio calls at the station.”
“That’s against the law.”
“I’ve seen a hell of a lot more classified information. I don’t think the government is worried about me listening in on police scanners.”