Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Bailey’s face went all soft. “Oh, that sounds amazing.” She looked from Aspen to Havana. “We should definitely go.”
The Alpha gave an enthusiastic nod. “We could make it a girl’s day out. And then we’d also get to see where Quinley works—I’m nosy enough that I want to check the place out.”
“I half-expected Isaiah to try sending you all there every day after the Zaire incident.” Isaiah had made the entire pride aware of it, passing around Zaire’s photo and asking that they keep a look out for him.
Havana’s nose wrinkled. “Isaiah might have suggested you have a personal guard, but I pointed out that you’re in no physical danger from Zaire. He seemed mollified by your later promise not to engage with the guy if he reappeared.”
Quinley knew about the whole suggesting a guard thing; he’d told her about it afterward. She’d said exactly what Havana herself had seemingly said to him. He’d actually conceded that they were both right; hadn’t tried pushing anything on Quinley. But it had been clear that the thought of Zaire returning to the salon had concerned him.
She understood that his emotional reaction was massively driven by the insecurities existing between them due to their lack of a bond. It was a visceral thing that neither of them could quash, not even when they knew their thoughts or reactions weren’t entirely rational.
Since she wouldn’t much like Lucinda approaching him and didn’t want Isaiah feeling all knotted up inside, she’d given him peace of mind by swearing that if Zaire did reappear—which was highly unlikely, in her opinion—she’d retreat to the rear of the salon and call Isaiah straight away. He could then make his way there and have a chat with Zaire.
Hearing her cell beep, she dug it out of her pocket. Speaking of Isaiah, she had a text from him: Where are you?
Apparently, he was home. She typed: Hello to you, too. I’m next-door.
With the unholy trinity?
You know, they like that you all call them that.
I do know.
“That Isaiah?” asked Havana.
“Yes, he’s home.” She pocketed her cell as she pushed out of the chair.
“That doesn’t mean you have to leave,” said Havana.
Quinley felt her nose wrinkle. “No offense, but I’ve hit my social limit.”
Aspen chuckled. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t hit it sooner.”
A knock came at the front door.
“That’ll be him,” Quinley predicted, slipping on her thick coat. Swinging open the door moments later, she discovered she was right. And just seeing him there—so tall and steady with that tiny upward tilt to one corner of his mouth that made her want to lick it—was enough to make her smile.
“Hey,” she greeted as her cat slinked closer, drawn as ever by his scent; finding it both comforting and enlivening. “I was just about to head home.”
“Now I can walk you there.” He called out his hellos to the girls in the living area, who returned the greetings and told them both to enjoy their evening.
Once Quinley shut the door behind them, he dragged up her coat zipper—such a small thing, but it was so sweet it made her smile again.
He did little things like that all the time. Considerate things. He placed her gloves on the radiator in the morning so they’d be warm when she left for work. He secretly slipped her favorite snacks and candy bars into her purse. He helped around the house with chores, never leaving the bulk of anything to her.
Her cat was totally seduced by how he took care of Quinley in such ways. Seriously, the feline melted into a pile of goo often around him—the sweet, protective treatment so foreign to her. Her trust in him grew every day. Quinley could say the same regarding the latter.
He dabbed a kiss on her mouth. “Hmm, you taste like chips.”
“I was hungry.”
His lips tipped up. “It’s rare that you aren’t.”
The dude was not wrong.
Taking her hand in his, he led her down the porch steps. “How was your day?”
“Fine, yours?”
“Busy.”
All the enforcers were right now, since they were having to pick up the slack while Farrell, Luke, and Camden were tracking the Vercetti Pack. Isaiah would typically have been focused on guarding Tate, but the Alpha had temporarily had someone else take over—he’d agreed with Isaiah that it would be best. Like her, Tate didn’t want him distracted as it would make Isaiah a more vulnerable target. She appreciated that, and she’d thanked the Alpha in private.
“Have you heard anything from Alex’s uncles?” she asked.
The corners of his mouth turned down. “No. They’re still not taking or making calls. Not even Valentina or Alex have heard from them.”
“Do you think they’re dead?”
“No. Satan protects his minions.”
She snickered.
“It’s not unusual for them to stay out of touch when hunting. But Sergei had assured Tate that he’d check in with him regularly.”