Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 156146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
It was good my mouth was still closed; I could grit my teeth immediately.
He grinned at me again.
He then said, “Ice queen, my ass.”
My jig was up.
“I’m going kill my mother,” I stated casually, like I considered this activity every day.
Another grin.
Then, from him, “Do you ever wear anything other than heels?”
I was in mustard houndstooth slacks with a drop, double swoop, gold chainlink belt at the front, a slim, cream turtleneck and a pair of fire-engine red pumps.
“I came here direct from work, but…yes,” I answered.
“Baby, those shoes,” he murmured, low and hot. “My favorites so far.”
“Stop flirting,” I hissed.
He took his hands out of his pockets to cross his arms on his chest, which made his pecs bulge against the thermal fabric.
God damn it.
“Right. You’re being serious. What are we handling?” he asked.
I felt a finger of happiness trail down my spine at the word “we” in that final sentence.
I ignored it.
“We need to get this done, no muss, no fuss, no delays. Preferably, having a working concept by Friday, have the project complete next week.”
Slowly, his eyebrows rose.
“Say again?” he demanded.
“Completion date next week.”
“Friday is tomorrow,” he told me something I knew.
“It is,” I confirmed I knew it.
“Chloe, I know you’re pretending you’re not into me—”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I grumbled.
“But there is no way in fuck we can get this done properly in a week.”
I lifted my nose.
Just a smidge.
“Well, I don’t want my father dragged through this any longer than necessary, so what do you think? Two weeks? Most, three? And we handle them through technology. Until we produce the video, Dad isn’t involved physically at all. And if we can manage it, his stuff will be shot separate.”
Judge looked confused.
And then he did not.
“Chloe,” he said gently.
Yes, he figured it out.
I said nothing.
He took a step closer, and his voice was quieter when he said, “Okay, honey, I get you, but they both sound really into this idea. Tom and Duncan came up with it, and they seem willing to work together on it.”
“My father would run through a hail of gunfire to make my mother happy.”
Oh no.
Oh shit.
Was I going to cry?
I turned my head a tad and got myself together.
When I faced him again, his expression told me he didn’t miss anything.
Not a thing.
And just that expression was going to make me lose it.
“Don’t be nice to me, Judge,” I whispered.
“Okay, baby, I’ll start being a dick again.”
“Okay, good,” I said shakily.
He didn’t start being a dick.
He just looked at me like he wanted to be Superman so he could scoop me into his arms and fly away.
“You’re being nice!” I accused.
“Right, right.” He nodded. “Uh…”
He said no more.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Can you not be a dick?”
He shrugged. “I want that for you, but I’m coming up with nothing.”
“You didn’t have a problem with it when we first met,” I reminded him.
“I wanted your attention when we first met. I’ve got it now.”
“Argh!” I griped then stomped to the chest-high fence that separated Dad’s space from the communal space.
I glared at the deep, perfectly clipped flowering hedge that stood in the way of the fence and the thick strip of green grass before the walking trail started.
Privacy without privacy.
An unobstructed view with obstructions.
Ingenious.
I folded my arms on top of the fence and looked out at the view without seeing it.
I felt Judge come up beside me and lean into his side, facing me.
“Probably a waste of my breath, but still gonna ask you to talk to me,” he said.
God help me, I didn’t deny him.
I went for it.
“Mom’s happy. Deliriously so. She and Bowie were really…they were…they were really…” I cleared my throat, “in love. Back in the day.”
“Yeah, I heard,” he said softly.
“And, um…now.”
“I noticed.”
“So, she’s all in with that and she doesn’t get…”
I trailed off.
Judge picked it up.
“That your dad’s still in love with her.”
I looked up at him. “She gets it, she’s just…”
I again couldn’t finish.
Judge again did it for me.
“In her bubble.”
I turned away, muttering irritably, “Something like that.”
“It’s more?”
“It’s clueless,” I told the greenway.
“Pardon?”
I tipped my head to him. “Clueless. And actually, thoughtless. I mean, the reasons why…the whole thing behind…the split…wasn’t…good.” I was talking haltingly because I had to talk, get it out, but I couldn’t do it and give anything away. I found it easy to talk to him (as much as that peeved me), but he was nowhere near being a member of my very tight Circle of Trust. “But her doing this, her being okay with this, being a part of it, championing it is almost…cruel.”
“Cut her some slack, honey,” he suggested gently. “She’s allowed her happiness.”
“At the expense of someone else?”
“Yes.”
My head jerked.
“Happiness is worth anything,” he declared.
Oh my.
He kept going.
“Your dad is going to be okay. He’s a mature adult who knows better than you where he’s at. If he couldn’t handle this, he’d have said no.”