Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
She mumbles my name in her sleep, her brows furrowing, and I'd kill to know exactly what she's dreaming about right now.
Am I all over her like I was all day yesterday?
Is she coming around me? Or am I pissing her off like usual?
Her mind is a fascinating place. She's so fucking smart, so fiercely independent. She thinks she can take on the world, but I don't think she realizes that she's never had to do it. I'd kill to stand in front of her against the world. I know her dad and Wyatt feel the same way. She's always been ours to protect. Even before I understood what that meant, I knew it was my job just as much as it was theirs.
I brush my lips across her bare shoulder and then carefully pull the blankets up over her. She sighs sweetly, rolling onto her side. And I immediately want to skip every part of the day that requires me to leave this bed.
But I can't do that. She's already sore, and I won't be the asshole who puts my needs before hers. Fuck that noise. My dick has waited a lifetime for a taste of her. It'll survive one day.
I slide from the bed, dragging a pair of sweats up my legs. Thanos lifts his head from his bed in the corner, one eye cracked open. Like Chloe, he isn't interested in mornings. He'd rather sleep in, but he huffs and then stretches slowly before climbing to his feet. He stumbles more than walks into the hall, his eyes still half closed.
I chuckle softly as I slip out of the room behind him, pulling the door closed. We stop in the kitchen long enough to start a pot of coffee, grab my phone, and then step out into the yard.
The sun hasn't quite crested the horizon, turning the sky that inky, ombre blue-orange color. Despite the hour, Tom is already in position at his window, ready to raise hell. I swear to Christ, he probably sleeps there, just waiting for something—me, probably—to come by his window so he can fuck it up.
"Back yard, Thanos," I mutter, heading that way before the Chihuahua gets up to his usual bullshit and wakes Chloe. I want her in a good mood today, not cranky because she was up with the chickens, as she likes to say.
Thanos just lopes along behind me like he doesn't give a flying fuck where we go as long as he gets to piss.
Wyatt's backyard is nice as hell. A massive deck stretches off the back of the house, with Adirondack chairs scattered around a sunken firepit. The back fence is obscured by massive flowering bushes that give the space a lush, green look, drawing attention away from the parched Southern California grass. The same flowering plants march in neatly planted lines all around the back of the house.
I drop into a chair and dial Colton while Thanos sniffs around, looking for the perfect spot to drop a deuce. I'm not worried about waking the man up at the ass crack of dawn. I doubt he's slept much since Chloe skipped town anyway.
"Trystan, how are you, son?" he answers on the third ring, wide awake.
"Hey. Doing good." I clear my throat, not entirely sure how to even have this conversation with him. He's going to be pissed. So is Chloe, for that matter. "I'm calling about Chloe."
A tense silence hangs on the line for a moment before he sighs. "What about her, son?"
I'm marrying your daughter whether you like it or not. I don't say that, though. Not yet. As much as I want to blurt it out, I fucking can't. That's a conversation we need to have after Chloe and I have a conversation about what she wants.
If she isn't on the same page, I'll lose my mind, but she's been telling me for years that I'm too goddamn bossy. She isn't wrong. I've spent years telling her what to do without even meaning to do it. I won't fuck up the most important thing in my life by demanding that she give me what I want again now.
I'm trying like hell to play by her rules. The problem? I have no fucking clue what they are yet. I don't think I've ever known, but goddamn, I want to get them right. I want her to keep looking at me like she has since we kissed for the first time.
"I know why she quit her job."
"Why?" her dad growls.
"Her ex-prick-of-a-boss sent her wildly fucking inappropriate messages."
"Son of a bitch," Colton mutters into the phone. "How bad are they?"
"Bad enough to destroy her trust in him, and probably his marriage, too." She finally let me see them last night. I wanted to drive to San Francisco and rip the prick's throat out again. She begged me not to do it, but I'm still considering the option. No one should have to read that kind of shit from their married boss, especially one in his fucking sixties.