Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
This idea held merit.
The thing was, the more he was around her, the closer he came to caving.
He’d learned his lesson with Bree.
At least he hadn’t loved her like he had the other two.
But fuck, the woman put him through four months of hell.
It was always good in the beginning.
Until it turned bad.
That said, Mabel could move house. Duck out of their line of sight. Find a place in town that was populated.
But that felt shit, Mabel having to do something as major as that when she should be able to live free.
However, she had a shop. She had to have made friends in the area.
She couldn’t just disappear from that cabin.
Someone would go looking.
Namely…Hutch.
“Handle her with care,” Lee warned.
He hadn’t been doing that, not even slightly.
The thing was, he just learned what her life had been, and she was sassing him and strutting around in her sweet jeans, shirts, sweaters, silver and boots, baking sourdough bread.
Jesus.
His chest started hurting so bad, he had to rub it.
“You need me to send Vance up there to put up some surveillance?” Lee offered.
This wasn’t a bad idea.
Hutch talked it out. “It’s been over a week, and they’ve left her alone. She got a note, their indictment on something she did. But they haven’t approached since. Even so, she reported it, and you know how things are around here. So my guess is, you know our sheriff isn’t sitting on his hands when he might have another problem that might blow up in the town’s face.”
“You decide differently, you call. For Mabel Adams, it’ll be a freebie.”
Lee was a soft touch when it came to women in general, and women in peril, specifically.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good she’s got you close.”
“Yeah.”
“I got no more, brother, but I’ll repeat, I can do something, call on me.”
“Thanks, Lee.”
“Marker paid,” Lee said.
And he hung up.
Hutch headed to the bourbon.
Once he poured it, he threw some back and turned to take in his kitchen.
Before he got out of the Navy, he’d already decided what he was going to do when the Navy was no longer his life. He also decided where he was going to be.
As far away from anybody as he could be.
He’d never been a crowd person. He’d always been a loner. His father had been shocked when he’d enlisted, because to enlist, you gotta know how to work on a team. And not like sports. Doing it day in, day out, moment to moment.
It wasn’t that Hutch didn’t like people, he just didn’t like a lot of them all at once.
He could deal.
It wasn’t a choice.
It wasn’t a phobia.
It was a preference.
And he didn’t need much of anything.
Outside of putting up the pens, after he moved in, he hadn’t changed a thing about this property. He got the furniture he needed, nothing more.
Bree had given him endless shit about it.
Your kitchen is god-awful. You need a new one.
You need a TV. Not having a TV is just crazy.
Would it kill you to hang a picture on the wall, Hutch?
She hadn’t been the first with all that noise.
But she had been the last.
Not one woman he’d been remotely serious about wanted him just for him.
Change this.
Niggle that.
Get out of the Navy so you’re home more.
Work harder. Kiss ass. Go for that promotion.
Be someone else.
It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to compromise.
He did.
He just refused to compromise on the core of him being anything but who he was.
He didn’t know if his old range could bake a loaf of sourdough bread.
What he did know was that every woman who walked over his threshold saw his home as a huge waving red flag, sharing he was not a keeper.
This was not his plan, but it worked for him anyway.
He hated television. There was nothing worthwhile on it. It was a time suck and a mind fuck.
He didn’t give a fuck about paintings on the wall.
But if there was a single woman in this world who could handle him as he was, she could do whatever the fuck she wanted. He’d help. He’d pay. And if it made her happy, he’d be glad to do it.
He wouldn’t like it, but he’d even mount a TV.
But that first part was impossible to find.
Since it happened, he’d refused to think about it, but learning everything about Mabel, it surfaced.
I’m impressed.
Another thing Bree rode his ass about?
Live a little, Hutch. What’s an ice cream cone gonna hurt? It’s like you’re no fun.
He closed his eyes thinking about ice cream and expended the effort it took to shake that off.
Then Mabel’s words returned.
I’m impressed.
He opened his eyes.
Not, Take it. Eat it. It won’t kill you. I worked hard on baking that bread.
But, I’m impressed.
He knew, as much as it wrecked him to be a part of that tribe, too many of the male population were dicks, douchebags, cheaters, losers, red pills, Peter Pans or straight up motherfuckers.