Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Think he did,” Detroit said, nodding.
“God, I’m never going to be able to make this up to everyone,” I said, blinking rapidly.
“Hey,” Detroit said after depositing my bags down on the desk and floor, then reaching out to snag my chin, drawing it up.
Yeah.
He did the thing.
That thing that is in all romance novels and movies and in the hearts of all women.
He did the thing.
And some part of me completely melted at his firm fingers on my chin.
“You don’t owe any of us anything,” he said, head ducked, keeping intense eye contact. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed as my heart started doing this crazy little shuffle in my chest.
“Okay,” he agreed, dropping my chin, and there was no accounting for the surge of disappointment that coursed through me right then. “I’m gonna let you settle in,” he said, waving around. “Do whatever you want to make it homey. I’m gonna get food started,” he told me, grabbing the bag full of fridge items he’d brought up, so he could go put them away.
“Okay,” I said, giving him a smile, then watching him turn and walk toward the door. “Hey, Detroit?” I called, watching him turn back.
“Yeah?”
I didn’t think twice about it.
I just went with the urge.
I flew at him, wrapping my arms around him, and squeezing tight, feeling immediately more secure up close to his broad chest.
“Thank you. For everything.”
His arms were a bit slow to go around me, but when they did, they squeezed tight.
“Don’t mention it, sweetheart,” he said, then just as suddenly as he hugged me, released me, turned, and left.
I was surprisingly sad to see him go, but tried not to overthink it, knowing my emotions were all over the place from the last few days.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I looked at my room.
Yes, it was a little… stark.
But the girls had likely brought in the bed and the dresser, and made the bed with the very nice all-white bedding that was so similar to what I had at home. And Coach had built and brought in a desk for me.
There wasn’t much in here, but what there was, had been deliberately brought in with me in mind. That made it immediately feel a little more homey.
I went through my bags, hanging all my clothes in the closet. Yes, I was one of those people who couldn’t live out of a bag. Even if I went on a short vacation to Vegas to see a show, I always hung up my clothes in the hotel closet. Then I put my under things into the dresser, and placed my toiletry bag on top, not knowing how many people shared the bathroom, and not wanting to clog it up with all my things.
I put my blanket and Squishmallow on the bed, and my books in the drawer of the nightstand where no one else would see them.
I was just trying to figure out what to do with the records I’d impulsively brought with me, some silly part of me scared that someone might break into my apartment while I was gone and steal them. And, sentimental value aside, I couldn’t afford to replace all of them. And I couldn’t live without them. Dramatic, I know. But it was my comfort and feel-good music. I needed it.
It was right then that someone cleared their voice in the doorway, startling me enough to yelp as I whipped around, finding Crow standing in the doorway.
I didn’t know him well. But I guess maybe a bit more than all the others, Detroit aside. He was married to Morgaine who I’d had a few conversations with. Including when I’d paid her to poison my sister’s abusive ex.
He was tall with longish inky black hair and a thin sort of fit with this amazing bone structure that belonged on TV.
And he was holding something in his arms.
“Oh, hey,” I said, smiling.
“Detroit told me to bring this up to you,” he said, shuffling the thing in his arms. “Said it was gathering dust downstairs, and you’d get use out of it.”
“What is it?” I asked as he stepped into the room.
“A record player,” he told me. “But it has Bluetooth and everything too. Where do you want me to put it?” he asked.
“Oh, ah, the desk would be great,” I said. “Thank you,” I told him.
“Don’t mention it. Morgaine’s gonna be happy to see you. She’s fussing with her chickens. But I’m sure she’ll be by to check on you,” he said, then turned and left without another word.
I didn’t waste any time.
I plugged in the player, pulled a record from the sleeve, and slipped it in, then dropped the needle.
I immediately felt a little better with some familiar music to dull the unfamiliar sounds of the clubhouse.
I finished everything up, piling my bags inside my luggage then the luggage inside the closet, walked over to the bed, slipped out of my shoes, grabbed my sea cow, curled on my side, and slept.