Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
“Simms has a thing for his physical therapist.”
I glare at Ford for making me seem like a teenage boy. “You’re a dick.”
He throws his hands in the air with a cunning smile.
Boyd clears his throat, and I notice he’s paled slightly. His eyes meet mine and a knot coils in my gut.
“Um, I don’t know how to say this, because it’s none of my business. But I know Abe Koch and he’s engaged… to a woman.”
My heart stops, understanding rushing through my nerves.
All my reports and releases have come from Abe.
He doesn’t know about Willow.
Which means—he thinks I’m gay.
The silence stretches a beat before Ace, Major, and Ford all burst into loud, obnoxious laughter. Major hurls so far back, his chair tips and he does a full roll-out. Ford isn’t as graceful, hitting the floor with a thud.
“Oh My God, Jewls will love this.” Major snaps a picture of me.
“I’m not fucking interested in Abe.”
“There’s no judgment.” Boyd glances at the others like they’ve lost their mind. “We’re inclusive.”
Now he’s quoting the HR handbook.
“This is too much, I can’t make this up. Talon’s inclusive.” Ford is on his knees now, holding his side.
“Why are you acting like lunatics?”
“Because, as of yesterday, Abe and I agreed on my new therapist. Willow is very much a woman.”
Boyd visibly relaxes, color returning to his face as his eyes light with hilarity. “Glad there won’t be any messiness with Abe and his fiancée.”
“Maybe not with Abe, but he’s been shot down. His ‘twinkle’ is fading.” Ford’s a wealth of information today.
“You are a complete ass. I wasn’t shot down.”
Ace whistles as a paper airplane flies across the space, crashing into the side of a trashcan.
“You done?”
“Long time coming, brother. You dished this shit out, time for payback.”
“Hell yeah.”
“Karma is a bitch,” Ford and Major say at the same time, agreeing with Ace.
“All three of you were stupid asses.”
“Last Standing Casanova—tell us your plan to woo the unsuspecting and innocent, Willow-the-therapist.” Ford covers his heart with a hand and flutters his eyelashes.
My lips twitch, and before I can stop it, a chuckle escapes.
When we got out of the service, our plans were made. Join the academy, join the force, and as soon as possible, join SWAT.
We lived well in a house owned by Ford’s parents, stuck to ourselves, and had little socialization.
Before long, rumors started about our personal lives, and the mansion on the hill was labeled the Casanova Club.
Stories spread about our parties and the women rotating in and out of our doors.
The term Casanova used to piss us all off, but it’s become more of a badge of honor in the last year.
As the women became part of our lives, they embraced the term and love to throw it around.
“Sorry, you’ll have to watch it play out in real-time.” I move to leave, waving in the air.
“Don’t make me pull Rowan in on this!” Ford calls.
I flick my middle finger his way, another loud rumble of laughter following me to the stairwell.
Once I'm at my truck, I confirm that everything's good to go for this afternoon.
Abe Koch isn't stupid; he knew right away why I suggested Willow take over my case. He didn't fight it.
Pretty sure the guy was laughing the whole conversation, even wishing me luck in the end.
Now it’s time for me to put this plan in action.
“You’ve done well today.” Willow types on her iPad, not glancing my way.
I remain silent, waiting her out. It’s been like this the last forty-five minutes. Her going through the session robotically, keeping her focus and conversation to the basics. I gave her the play, showing I can respect her position.
Abe was forthcoming in his praise of Willow but made a point to mention her dedication. He described it as a quest for perfection. Little did he know, he was adding to my list of discoveries of the elusive Willow Richards.
After a full minute of no response, she lifts her eyes to mine. “Are you okay?”
“Great, just waiting for this session to end so we can drop the formalities.”
It’s almost invisible, but I catch the spark in her pupils.
“There are no formalities.”
“You’re cute when you lie.”
“I’m not lying, and I’m not cute!”
“You are.”
“Don’t make me regret taking on your file.”
“Regret is the last thing you ever need to feel when it comes to me.”
She lays her tablet to the side and motions to my shoulder. “Can I feel?”
I open my arms in welcome. “Anytime.”
She follows the same process as last week, prodding with different pressure points and assessing my comfort level. Her hand never deviates from the area, purposely staying away from my scars.
“What do you think?” I ask when she’s back to making notes.
“My official report will need approval from Abe. A few more weeks of sessions along with at-home exercises, you can resume normal activity. Barring any more sliding into home plate or occupational mishaps.”