Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Listen,” he starts, “you can’t park on this here property. So unless you’re broken down, you need to move along. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Deputy.” The car is still running, but I fudge with a knob to act like I’m listening to some degree. The wipers slide across the windshield while fluid squirts out, hitting the cop on the side of the face. “Shit, I’m sorry.” I make sure the wipers are turned off and steal a glance at Shortcake, who is about to lose it laughing.
She covers her mouth and turns to face away from us.
Lifting from the quick ducking he did, the deputy wipes his face with the back of his hand and hits me with a scowl aimed in my direction. If indecent behavior didn’t get me thrown in jail, that wiper fluid assault just might do it. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you did that on accident.”
“It was a pure accident, sir. Sorry about that.”
Annoyance purses his lips, but then he bends down once more to smile at Lauralee, which I find fucking annoying. “You headin’ out to Rollingwood Ranch?”
“Sure am,” she replies with a honeyed smile. The woman knows how to lay it on thick when she wants to.
He adds, “Say hi to Christine for me.”
“I will.” She waves her fingers at him. “Have a great day, Dirk.”
He walks away without acknowledging me again but taps the roof of the car as he works his way back to his own vehicle. I watch in the mirror until he backs out of here. Throwing my gaze toward the beauty next to me, I ask, “How are you doing?”
“Amazing. You?” She’s so chipper that I have no reason not to believe her.
“Never better.” I shift the car into reverse before turning the rest of the way around. “It was a close call.”
“You’re telling me. I almost didn’t get there.” My arm is punched. “You were going to let me just suffer. I’ll remember that.”
I stop the car again to look her square in the eyes. “It only would have been a few minutes. I would have made sure to get you there right after. But I also didn’t know you were an exhibitionist. I’m intrigued, Ms. Knot.”
She’s still smiling like she’s walking on sunshine. “Depends.”
“On?”
Reaching over, she scrapes her nails gently across the back of my neck before resting her arm on my shoulders. “With whom, when, and where I am.”
I move to rest my hand on her leg and kiss her. She meets me halfway without question. That seems to be what our relationship is based on. I’m not questioning. Just acting on instinct. But when I lean back, looking into her eyes, I’m starting to think we could be more.
The odds are against us based on distance alone. Thinking about how settled she is here with the shop she’s running, I imagine she’s not looking to leave her mom alone.
Sliding my hand over her inner thigh, I rub the pad of my thumb on her soft skin. “Peachtree Pass probably isn’t the where and when you’d like. We know how it goes here. One whiff of a relationship travels like a live wire through town. But what are your thoughts on New York?”
She rests her head back on the seat and looks ahead at the road when a car passes by. Her eyes remain staring into the distance for a moment, maybe more, but when she turns to me again, her gaze softens. “Are you asking me to visit you in New York, Baylor?”
I gently squeeze her thigh and rest my head back while facing her. “If I were?”
“I don’t want ‘if I were.’ I want you to stand behind your words.” She massages the crook of my neck, easing the tension the deputy built up. I lean into it, into her. “I know it’s hard when we’re just getting to know each other.” Tucking hair behind her ear, she briefly lowers her gaze to her lap. “But I need to know if you’re asking me to come to New York to see you or just talking about a future kind of thing.”
This has escalated in a way I didn’t see coming. I don’t have a prepared speech or a line like I would typically have on hand to respond in a way to protect myself. But protecting myself from her isn’t something I need to do.
There’s no hiding anyway when she sees exactly who I am and she’s still here beside me, still kisses me like it means more than a fun few hours in bed or even meaningless sex. Shit . . . I like her. A lot.
She doesn’t take my shit or anyone else’s, for that matter. She doesn’t need me. If she’s here, it’s because she wants to be. That’s so incredibly sexy. To be chosen by her.