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)
“I need a favor.”
We’re riding back to the house from working out in the gym. Aiden left for Seattle this morning, and we all met at the farmhouse to have breakfast together before Ryker and Willow took him to the airport. Then Gideon and I went right out to work in the ring.
I’m extra sweaty today. He worked me hard, but I managed to get a punch in that he wasn’t expecting, so I’m taking that as a win.
“Ask away,” he says, reaching over to hold my hand.
The weather has gotten cold enough that we rarely run outside or walk to the workout facilities anymore, so we’re in his truck.
“I need to call Chelsea.”
His gaze whips around to mine, and he scowls. “Fuck no.”
“Just listen to me. Her birthday is in two days, and I want to call to wish her a happy birthday and chat with her for a few minutes. It would be completely out of character for me not to do that, even if I was on a world tour for my mother. I’m shocked she hasn’t been asking about me.”
“She did finally reach out to Richie to ask how much longer you’ll be gone and when you’ll be answering your phone,” he admits, and I stare at the side of his head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Now he looks over at me with his Secret Service face firmly in place. “Because you didn’t need to know.”
“Gideon. I had the right to know that. I want to call her for her birthday. I have done everything you’ve said, and you know it. I haven’t even asked to call my family. You can do this for me.”
He sighs and drags his hand down his face, but finally says, “I’ll figure it out. You’ll use the landline because I can scramble the trace. But you can’t talk for more than ten minutes.”
“I haven’t spoken to her in too long. We never go this long without talking. No limit on the call.”
“This isn’t a negotiation, Rebel. It’s ten minutes or nothing.”
“I don’t like you like this.”
He parks at the house, and I push out of the truck and march to the door.
“Like what? Keeping you safe?”
“All grumpy and broody and a hard-ass.”
“News flash—this is who I am, baby. Like it or don’t.”
“Fine, I’ll take the ten minutes, but I need this to be over. I need to be able to make phone calls and use my own cell and live like a normal human being. Willow can’t even text me recipes, or tell me when she’s popping by here. This is getting ridiculous.”
“I know.” He seems to deflate. “I agree. They’re not telling me much, so I can’t tell you how much longer this might go on. I’ll get you a burner phone so you can at least talk to me and Willow. I didn’t expect it to go on this long, honestly.”
“Okay. I need a shower.”
I go to walk to the stairs, feeling frustrated and dejected, but he takes my hand and pulls me against him, into one of those perfect hugs that always melt me.
“I’m sweaty and gross.”
“You’re never gross. Before you get in the shower, I have something to show you.”
I frown up at him, and then he’s guiding me through the house. But he doesn’t lead me upstairs. Instead, we walk down a hallway, and he stops in front of a closed door.
“Go ahead.” He gestures to the door, and I frown up at him. “Open the door, Lena.”
I turn the knob and push the door open, and then feel my jaw drop, and I haven’t even walked across the threshold.
This used to be another guest room, but now it’s . . . not.
The windows in here face the lake and the mountains, and all the coverings have been removed. There’s a big desk with all my art supplies in front of it. Against one wall is a small couch with fluffy pillows and a throw blanket. It’s colorful and beautiful, and I turn to Gideon.
“What is this?”
“The beginning of an art studio,” he says, looking inside. “It’s too cold for you to sit outside to sketch. I know you still do in the morning, but it has to stop until spring, baby. I don’t want you to get sick. This way, you can still work and look at the mountains, but I know you’re safe and warm.”
He gave me an art studio.
“I know you’ll want to hang stuff on the walls and finish furnishing it the way you want, so I kept it simple for now. You’ll have exactly what you want in here.”
I turn into him, bury my face in his chest, and hug him close.
“Thank you,” I mutter, the sound muffled by his impressive muscles.
“You’re welcome.” He presses his lips to the top of my head. “I want you to be happy here.”