Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I can’t say for sure he’s looking this way, but something tells me he is, and my chilled body grows warm.
With his black hood pulled low over his eyes, head tilted and shoulder resting against the brick wall, his presence screams danger. And dangerous he just might be—for me anyway because, over the last few weeks of having him in my home, I’ve seen more than I ever knew existed.
Alec has a gentle, playful side he hides. At first, it appeared out of character for him, him doing simple things like heating my sweaters alongside his before we left for work in the cool mornings. Or how he would pour a cup of coffee for me when he poured his. He never says a word when he does these little things, and I find myself looking forward to the gestures.
He’s still grouchy and overly bossy, but I’ve decided it’s in his nature to be direct. I don’t think he could sugarcoat if he tried, even the stuff he should. He’s allowing me to see a bit more into who he is, things I’ve missed over the years.
My eyes shift right when the door behind him opens, and Rowan comes out, walking right past Alec—neither brother acknowledging the other—and straight for me.
Rowan steps up to the bed of the truck and reaches for me.
With a small smile, I stand and make my way to him.
When his hands meet my hips and mine land on his shoulders, I glance at the man in the doorway, who now stands to his full height.
I knew he was watching.
Rowan spins, so when he sets me down, my back is to Alec. He lowers his forehead to mine, whispering, “Don’t give up on me, Oakley.” The back of his middle finger skims down my cheek. “I’m trying.”
At his words, I could cry.
Because, when it comes to Rowan, I don’t have to try. It’s natural; it always has been.
I’m learning it truly is like he said. He’s … trying.
Trying to fall.
Wanting to feel.
And I can only watch and wait.
Hope.
But none of that matters—his wants, my hopes—because the fact will remain …
I can’t make him love me if he doesn’t.
I muster a smile for his sake. “I know, Row. I know.”
With that, we head for the building, but this time, when my eyes sneak left to the spot against the brick wall, no one’s there.
“Are you done now?”
With a sigh, I drop back into my chair. “No, Alec, I am not done. I wasn’t done five minutes ago when you asked or the ten minutes before that. I have a solid hour of work left.”
He frowns at me. “It’s seven forty-five.”
“I’m aware.”
“It’s time to fucking go.”
“Then, go.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“So, I’ll call Rowan and ask—”
Alec’s hand slams down on my desk. “The fuck you will.”
I gape at him. “What is your issue?”
“You. Him. All of it,” he seethes.
“What does that even mean?”
“I am here to handle anything and everything related to you. Get that through your fucking head.”
Yep. Psychopath.
I stare at him, and for a moment, he stares back, but when a pinch of the hardness disappears from those dark green eyes, he jerks away, storming into his office.
When his door slams, I look over at my desk and the pile of crap I’d be coming into tomorrow if I left it all like this.
But Alec has been my shadow for a few weeks now, and I’ve yet to bend to make his life more enjoyable. He’s stuck here with me all day, stuck watching me all night, and stuck eating nothing but delivery food or frozen shit in my freezer because I refuse to stop with him on the way home. His stubborn self won’t go without me.
With a deep sigh, I stand, wiping my hands against my jeans as I approach his office.
“I said, stop fucking calling me, Marissa,” Alec hisses into his phone before tossing it onto his desk.
So, it is a female who blows up his phone all day. I wonder who this Marissa is.
He runs his hands through his brown hair, spotting me as he sits back. “What?”
“We can go.”
His eyes narrow. “And your work?”
“It’ll be there tomorrow.”
He blinks and then stands. “Fine. Whatever.” Yanking his jacket off his chair, he stalks past me.
“I need to go by the store on the way home.”
“No. It can wait until tomorrow.”
“I’m going to the damn store, Alec. With or without you.”
I start for the door, but Alec is quick to grab on to my arm, half-spinning me toward him.
He gets in my face. “You think after the break-in, I’d let you out of my sight, Oakley? ’Cause I won’t. Someone was in your fucking house, within reach of you, and I wasn’t there. That won’t happen again.”
The hand holding on to my arm starts to tighten as his body shakes slightly, rage running through him at the thought of what could have happened that night.