Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
My tone is sarcastic as hell, and I can’t seem to stop myself. “Totally decent.”
Wilder steps in, wearing a sheepish smile and holding up a bottle of Fireball. “Sorry about the clothes stuff. I’ll figure something out. Promise.”
I fold my arms and arch a brow to let him know just what his promises mean to me. “What’s with the booze?”
He smiles, and I feel the warmth deep down to my bones. “Coop and Kelsey had their baby. Carmine Rocky Cooper. Thought you wouldn’t mind a celebratory drink since you know Kelsey.”
“Thoughtful.” I remind myself that Cyrus had been thoughtful. Polite and well-mannered too. At the beginning. “Why bother, though? I mean, I can’t hear a damn thing in here, so you can party all night, and I’ll just sit in here alone and bored, none the wiser.”
His shoulders fall in disappointment. “I’m sorry, Maven, about all of this. But you did try to run, and that makes it hard to believe you won’t do it again.”
I nod because I did try to run. “Did I try to run once at For Goodness Cakes?”
“No,” he grins. “Because you know I’ll catch you if you do. Let’s sit and have a nice chat over a few too many drinks, Maven. Relax a bit. What do you say?”
Weigh my options. Drink alone and probably start crying over the fucked-up state of my life again, or get a little too tipsy with excellent man candy to look at for an hour or two? As if that’s really a brain tickler.
“I say get to pouring. Please.”
He grins. “Even when you’re pissed, you’re polite. I like that about you.”
“My compliance?”
“No,” he shakes his head and sets the bottle and two glasses on the small round table. “I like that even when you’re pissed off, you don’t let it change who you are at your core. A nice woman.”
I stare at him for a few seconds, wondering if his words are genuine. “Is that what you do, Wilder? Let your anger change you?”
He flashes another killer grin, and my pussy clenches between my thighs, arousal flickering to life within me.
“Not anymore, no. But as a kid, before and after foster care, I went wild in my anger. White hot rage is what they called it.”
I blink at his words. “You were in foster care?” Somehow, I don’t see Wilder in the system. Too controlled. “That must have been rough,” I say quickly.
He nods. “It was hell, but strangely, it was better than where I’d been before.” His shoulders sink a little as he talks, his eyes taking on a faraway gaze of someone visiting the past.
“My folks weren’t up to the task of being parents. They had too many vices. Loved to party too much. They were too young to know what they were giving up. At least, that’s what I tell myself.” He lets out a huff of laughter and refills our glasses. “What about you, Maven?”
Why do I like the way he says my name? It makes me pay extra attention to his words.
“Are you close to your folks?”
I take my own trip into the past for a moment. “Close? Not really. I mean, I check in with them every Sunday to make sure they’re all right because they’re getting up in age. We’ve never seen eye to eye on most things, though, beginning and ending with my career.”
He blinks. “They don’t like that you’re a pastry chef?”
“It’s a hobby in their eyes, and worse, they want me to be a boss, not a service worker.”
The outrage in Wilder’s eyes is endearing. “But you are a boss. You make the most mouthwatering shit ever.”
“Thanks,” I tell him sincerely. “But my parents are old with old-school ways of thinking. From their perspective, they didn’t work their asses off for me to go and serve people for the rest of my life. They’re happy I’ve found my place in the world, but they wish for more.”
“I’ll take that over what I was given,” he snorts and downs a shot of the cinnamon whisky.
“Were you adopted out of foster care?”
“Hell, no. I was too old and too much trouble. Ended up in a group home situation until, well, until I got into a shit load of trouble.”
His lips curl at the memory, and I am officially intrigued.
I lean forward on my knees with a smile. “Tell me.”
“You sure you want to know about my wild ways?”
I nod. “Absolutely. You seem too adorable to be a troublemaking kid.”
“Oh, but two things can both be true. The problem is no one looks like anything online, especially when they’re hacking into federal government servers.”
My eyes go wide with shock. “You hacked the government! As a kid?”
He nods. “I did. It was a stupid dumb shit move, but in my mind, they would see how easy it was, let me fix it for them, and give me a job. Bye-bye, foster care. Adios, old life. Hello, better life. You know?”