Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Asher waves me around, and I don’t bother stopping to chat. I’ll lose track of time, and the text Delilah sent, a picture with her in the kitchen, standing at the stove, a glass of wine in her hand, a soft smile, and I’ll just bet she’s not wearing a bra beneath her tee, makes me not want to lose a second. Less than a week in her company, and here I am, rushing to get home after work, ready to get inside instead of staying well past quitting time at the station. As soon as I’ve rounded my brother and Madelyn, I continue my journey until I’m toward the back of the farm. Asher lives in the main house. Beau has a room, too, but I prefer to live on my own, and Asher did a lot for us growing up, shit so did our oldest brother Owen. If anyone deserves the man house it’s those two. I’m not sure Owen wants it now that he’s out doing his own thing. The fresh scent of peaches blooming comes through the air vent, and while I may not work here full-time like I’m sure our parents would have wanted, I still like having some of the perks of having the family last name, and it’s not like I won’t pitch in when needed.
I pull into the paved driveway. Delilah’s car is in the garage, where it belongs. My personal truck doesn’t fit in it, and my squad car can stay outside for all I care. I make quick work of putting my car in park, turning off the ignition, and unlatching my seatbelt. The longest part of the process is getting my gear inside, particularly my laptop. Every police car has a computer stand included in their car; it can be a pain in the ass to move it in and out of our vehicle. Hopefully, I can do it without Delilah coming out here to greet me before I make it inside. She met me out here yesterday after work, and I’m hoping it’s not going to become a tradition like her morning sends offs when I head to the station. It’d be hard as hell to pull a fast one on her if she were to meet me outside today.
“Fuckin’ A.” I finally get the damn thing loose without my laptop sliding off the stand and hitting the floorboard. Now that it’s in my hands, I’m backing out of my SUV, closing the door, and looking at the front porch. Looks like I’ve got luck on my side, and I’ll get to see my woman in the kitchen. I’m annoyed with myself for this taking as long as it has. Hell, I should have been home an hour ago. Susan asking me to go on a call made it to where I’m later than normal. A habit of mine that is slowly changing. Usually I’d work until I was exhausted, now I’m rushing home. I wouldn’t usually mind, except now I’ve got someone to come home to. I may as well name it Before Delilah and After Delilah. I’ve gotta say, I like the me After Delilah a whole fuck of a lot better. She grounds me in a way that makes me wanna set roots.
“Hey, you’re home.” I open the front door after rushing up the small walkway from the driveway to the porch. A door that I know is locked when either of us leave the house, yet it was unlocked when I just opened it. Damn, I get the house is way out here; still, I don’t like the fact Delilah is here by herself when anyone can waltz in.
“You know how to shoot a gun?” I ask without saying hello back. She’s not fazed by my abruptness.
“Yes, I know how to shoot a gun. I have my own, too, a Smith & Wesson M&P Shield Plus.” My cock hardens, thinking about how she’d look with a gun in her hand at a range. Legs shoulder width apart, arms out, the palm of her hand holding the one with her pistol in it. Fuck, yeah, I’d push my luck, too, press my body up against hers, drag my hand up her outer thighs, and in a perfect world, she’d be wearing a sundress. Damn, but I love when she gives me access to her body easily. “Anything else you need to know?”
“Yeah, why the front door was unlocked, and when am I gonna see you shoot?”
Chapter 14
Delilah
Iwatch as Fletcher Wild closes and locks the front door. The emphasis of him turning the deadbolt echoes through the room. There’s an urban legend of sorts that claims we marry our fathers. Well, right now, I can’t debunk that statement whatsoever. “I knew you were on your way home. You sent me a message twenty minutes ago. You see, I’ve got my hands full, well, five minutes ago, before it was time to start working with the dough, I unlocked the door. As for the other part of your question, name the time and place. I’ll guarantee you I’m a good shot.”