Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
His face falls, probably not realizing I was being sarcastic.
“I’m kidding. I trust you. What’s up?”
“I was thinking we could hit the firing range like I promised.”
“You’re still trying to distract me from my work? You’re a bad influence. Are we sure you’re the right bodyguard for me?”
Though, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like someone fussing over me and trying to make sure I look after myself mentally. I have a chef and a personal trainer to take care of my physical needs, but I realize I’ve never had a handler to tame the chaos going on in my head before.
I shouldn’t go with Brix, but it’s clear my muse is on vacation. Or dead. “I need something to pull me out of this funk. Maybe shooting things will help.”
“In my experience, shooting stuff always cheers me up, but blowing shit up is better.”
My face lights up. “Do you have somewhere we can go to do that?”
“My boss has a ranch where we do training ops in the desert about three hours away. It’d be an overnight trip.”
I stand. “I can write in the car.”
Brix looks concerned. “Should I be worried about how excited you are? The other day I had to practically drag you outside to get some sun, but with the promise of explosives and gunfire, suddenly work isn’t a big deal.”
“I’ve never been high before let alone allowed to use explosives.” I jump up and down, probably a little too enthusiastically. “I’ll go pack!”
“I’ll call the boss and check it’s okay. Maybe invite some of the other guys.”
“Oh, like a party?”
“Like, as witnesses. Just in case.” He hits buttons on his phone and puts it on speaker.
“West,” the deep voice answers.
“Hey, anyone at the ranch over the next two days?”
A heavy sigh comes through the phone. “Please tell me the diva pop star didn’t piss you off and now you have to hide a body.”
I snort.
“No, though it’s been tempting.”
I give him the finger.
“I kinda promised him I’d let him shoot things and blow shit up.”
“Of course you did.”
“Well, I figure it’s time we all have a refresher course on explosives. Two birds …”
“I’ll call the others.”
They end the call, and Brix smiles at me. “That was easy. Ready for this?”
“I’m going to be badass like you.”
“Calm down, Rambo.”
I pause. “We can’t both be named Rambo. You can call me …” I tap my chin. “Mr. Badass.”
Brix laughs. “Go pack all your beauty products, Mr. Badass. We roll out in twenty.”
“I’m so excited I don’t even care that you’re mocking me.” I race to my room and pull out the small suitcase I use for short trips, but I pause outside my closet. What am I supposed to wear?
“Fuck it.” I throw in a few options.
And then I grab my toiletries which, okay, do include some skin cream and hair products. It’s part of my job to stay young and fresh, and—
My gaze catches my face in the mirror. With all the writing and not going out I’ve been doing, my facial hair is coming in thick.
The last time I shaved was for Evah’s party. My ginger is showing.
I can’t leave without getting rid of it.
There’s a reason photos of me as a child have never surfaced on TMZ or other tabloid sites. I’m pretty sure I’ve burned them all. My hair was bright red growing up, and then when I hit puberty, it darkened to look more brown than red. My beard, however, gives away that I was once a bright-eyed ginger with fair skin who used to get picked on daily.
I’m midshave when Brix yells from somewhere in the house.
“Come on, Mr. Badass.”
“Two minutes,” I yell back.
When I make my appearance, wheeling my suitcase behind me, I’m met with Brix’s damn cocky face.
“We’re only going overnight.”
“I didn’t know what to wear. And I had to shave, and—”
“The guys are gonna eat you alive,” Brix mutters.
Little does he know how appealing that sounds to me, but I’m guessing he doesn’t mean it the way my dirty mind is thinking.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re going to the middle of the desert with a bunch of ex-military dudes who will all be in cargo pants and T-shirts, not decked out in Tom Ford. They won’t give a shit what you’re wearing.”
My mouth drops open. “I’m sorry, back it up here a sec. You didn’t know my name but you can tell my jeans are Tom Ford?” My eyes narrow. “Who are you?”
“I’m the guy who’s about to kick your ass out the door. Hurry up. If the others beat us there, we’ll lose out on a bedroom and have to camp in the desert. I’ve done enough of that in my lifetime.”
“Ooh, I’ve never been camping. Can we do that?”
Brix shudders, almost like he’s cringing at the sadness that is my sheltered life. “If Iris comes, ask him.”