Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 90315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
And what does that say about my allure?
That it’s nonexistent.
We fall back into silence, and I let out a sigh.
“Are we allowed to make any other stops while we’re there?”
“No.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road ahead. His hand grips the wheel, his forearm flexes, with all those muscles and veins snaking down to his hands, and I have to squeeze my thighs together because holy shit. His arms belong in a movie, and I’m sitting two feet away, and I want to lean over and lick him.
But also, I feel bad that he has a little wound where I bit him yesterday.
“Hear me out.”
“No.”
Actually, I want to bite him again.
“Gid—”
“You said I could trust you.”
“You can trust me. I’m not trying to pull a fast one on you here. I’m trying to have a conversation.”
He sighs and pulls his hand down his face, and I nibble my bottom lip for a second before filling the silence with a soft voice.
“I was only going to suggest that we maybe get some takeout from that Mexican place you got food from last time. Because the queso was a religious experience, and I’m not supposed to have cheese, but it’s totally worth it for that.”
“We can do that.”
Success shines in my chest, but I refrain from doing a happy dance.
“And maybe the bookstore.”
“Lena—”
“I want to read, and I don’t want to read the war books you have at your place. Which is very on brand for you, by the way.”
“Willow has tons of romance books at her place.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Right, because Willow loves me and would be perfectly fine with loaning me her paperbacks. Fine, no bookstore, but I’d like to install a reading app on the iPad so I can download books, but you’ll have to put your credit card in so I can buy them, and add it to the tab for when this is over.”
“Fine.”
“Wow, we just compromised. I’m actually proud of us. Usually you just bark orders, and I argue, but you get your way anyway.”
He huffs out a laugh and glances my way, and I bat my eyelashes at him.
“I won’t leave your side,” I assure him, and his face sobers.
He doesn’t reply.
He goes back to staring out the windshield.
“Can I ask you questions?”
Gideon mumbles something under his breath about silence and then sighs. “You can ask. No guarantees that I’ll answer.”
“How did you come to be at the ranch when you were a teenager?”
His fist tightens around the wheel, his knuckles go white, and his jaw clenches.
“You don’t—”
“I’d been in foster care,” he says in a hard voice. “Actually, it was a home for boys in Bozeman, and it fucking sucked. I hated that place. One day, I was told to pack a bag because I’d be going to a ranch for the summer with Ryker.”
“Were you glad to have a friend with you?”
“I fucking hated him.”
My eyes widen in surprise, and he smiles.
Fuck, I love his smile.
“I wish I could bottle that.”
The smile fades, and I immediately want it back. “Bottle what?”
“Your smile. It’s freaking awesome. Sorry, go ahead. You hated Ryker? How come?”
“Because he was a pain in the ass, and he had a mouth on him, and we were forever punching the shit out of each other. I had one hell of a black eye when we arrived. Asshole.”
He smirks, and it makes me grin.
“But now you’re brothers.”
“It didn’t happen overnight. Willow was already at the ranch for the summer when we got there. She spent every summer out there. And she decided on the spot that the three of us were going to be best friends. Ryker and I both took to her right away. She’s the sweetest, happiest person I’ve ever met.”
“I haven’t met that Willow.”
“No. You haven’t.” He changes lanes to go around a big truck. “The person you met doesn’t come out often. She’s protective. We all are, especially of each other. Anyway, it only took a few days before Ry and I started to soften toward each other. By the end of that first month, we’d figured out our shit.”
This might be the most he’s ever said to me in one sitting. I love the deep timbre of his voice, the gravel in it. I wish he was murmuring in my ear.
Just the thought makes me shiver.
“Are you cold?”
“No, just a random chill. Where are your biological parents?”
“Gone” is all he says, and I decide to leave it alone. It’s really none of my business.
“Did you always want to go into the Secret Service?”
That has his hand loosening and his shoulders lowering, and I’m glad I changed the subject. I want him to be comfortable talking with me. I’m going to be here for God knows how long, and I don’t want to do it in silence.