Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“That lock is decorative.” Now, Boone’s in the hallway too, and it’s not a big hallway. The presence of all three Wilder brothers, standing so close to me in this small space, reminds me why I can’t stay here … all alone with them in their cabin.
“You’re staying here from now on,” Rhett says. “There’s no more discussion.”
I draw myself to my full height, which, admittedly, doesn’t measure up to his. “I don’t take orders from civilians.”
As I glare into his domineering eyes, I see worry there, too, but his method of offering protection is completely out of line.
“After what you saw, those men aren’t going to let this drop,” Cade says, and somehow his words have more weight because he was there and saw the same thing I did.
“My things are at the motel,” I say. “My files are there.”
“We’ll get them,” Rhett says.
“My clothes.” My argument’s weakening, and I’m relieved when Rhett doesn’t look smug.
His tone isn’t as rigid when he says, “We’ll get those, too.”
“You’re all very comfortable rearranging my life.”
Rhett steps closer, even though there was barely any space between us. “No. I’m very uncomfortable with how easily someone else could end it.”
That sends a shudder through me, but I lift my chin. “I’m not helpless.”
“No one said you were,” Boone says.
“And I’m not cargo.”
“No,” Cade says. “You’re not.”
“I’m not something you get to close ranks around just because you’ve decided I’m yours to protect.”
The silence that follows is the kind that changes a room, or a hallway, as the case may be, and I realize too late what I just said.
Yours.
Three sets of eyes darken.
Rhett’s gaze drops to my mouth before he meets my eyes again.
“We haven’t decided anything for you.” His voice is low and tugs at something inside me. “But we are closing ranks. That part isn’t negotiable.”
It should make me angry, and it does, but my pulse is thumping hard. Everything in me that values independence wants to argue, but pride isn’t a safety plan.
I can go back to a motel room with public parking and flimsy locks, or stay in a cabin with three men who’ve already proven they can get me out of trouble.
“Do you even have a spare bedroom?”
Boone grins like he knows the argument’s been won. “We’ll make one.”
“Let’s go get your stuff.” Rhett heads toward the living room, and the rest of us follow. Before he reaches the door, he turns back to me. “Give me your keys.”
“I’ll drive.”
“You’re not driving that truck around here anymore. I’m going to put it in the garage.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Boone says, “If you need to go somewhere, one of us will take you. If you need a vehicle later, we’ll figure it out.”
Suddenly, I’m tired, physically and mentally, and I’m tired of arguing, so I let it go for now.
In the remaining pre-dawn hours, we make the trip to the motel in two of their trucks. I ride with Cade, who’s quiet for the first few miles, then says, “You did good out there.”
“Hmm?” I open my eyes and pull myself out of the half-sleep I’d drifted into.
“Out on the ridge,” he says. “You did good.”
“Thanks.”
“And you knew I was out there with you.” It’s not a question.
“That’s why I took those little detours every night on the way out.”
He huffs out a little laugh, and when I glance over at his profile, his mouth curves into a half-smile.
We’re in and out of the motel quickly, with the men easily carrying all my things in one go. Back at their cabin, they deposit my luggage in the bedroom next to Rhett’s.
Boone strips the bed and remakes it with clean sheets, as I stand in the middle of the room feeling lost.
“Am I taking your room?”
He flashes me a warm grin, which is impressive considering the lack of sleep. “You’re not taking it. I’m giving it to you.”
“You’re forcing me to take it, actually, but thank you.” I grab one end of the sheet and help him center it, then tuck in the ends, though my side doesn’t look nearly as crisp as his.
Cade comes in carrying a carefully folded patchwork quilt, which he positions at the foot of the bed. It’s done in shades of green and blue with some floral patterns worked in, and it’s the softest thing I’ve seen in this house by far.
“That looks handmade,” I say.
“Our mom made it,” Boone says, and something in me crumbles. Maybe it’s exhaustion, but I’m suddenly very touched by these men, who I’ve known for barely more than a week, making room for me in their lives, and I almost feel like I could cry.
“Are you hungry?” Boone asks as Cade hovers in the doorway.
“Just tired.”
“Get some rest, then. The bathroom’s right next door. We all share it, but we’ll make it work. Make yourself at home, Wren.”