Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Nash wants to use the radio to contact some friends who might be interested in joining our small town. People who know how to help us keep everyone safe. It sounds good in theory. But we’ve known him for approximately five minutes. And in that time he’s pointed a gun at us twice. Life continues to be complicated in new and strange ways. But a population of twelve, with three of those people being children, can’t survive against thirty assholes.
Drastic measures must be taken.
In the meantime, dinner is canned ham and pineapple fried rice cooked on a camp stove. Avan and I are in charge. Natalia, Reema, and Naomi are gathered on the cane porch chairs, keeping an eye on Nash while discussing recent events. Charlie and Leon are on watch.
And Dean is walking back from his afternoon wash at the creek. His dark wet hair slicked back with those hints of silver showing. Blue jeans riding low on his hips and his bare chest…huh. He sure is a healthy specimen. There are pecs and nipples and abs and all of that. And I am not drooling. My saliva production just got away from me for a minute.
One scar curls around his side. But I think the bulk of them are on his back. His shoulders and biceps flex as he pulls a tee on over his head. The view of his bare chest is going, going, gone. So sad. Woe is me. How dare he make me wet too. And the kicker is the way his steady gaze stays on me the entire time. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Manipulating my hormones in this way is the work of a cad.
“Fuck me,” mutters Naomi. She’s such a harlot after my own heart.
Though it’s not like Natalia and Reema and Avan aren’t staring too. The only adult who seems unimpressed by the display is Nash. I believe he mumbles something involving the words “show” and “pony.” But I can’t quite catch what he says.
“Dean, watch this!” shouts Sophie as the girls perform a series of cartwheels and handstands.
“Excellent work,” he says. “I swear you guys are getting better at this stuff every day. You must be the best gymnasts in the whole wide world.”
Hazel and Sophie soak up the praise.
Then he walks straight up to me and says, “Mind if we talk for a minute inside?”
“Sure.”
He takes my hand and leads me through the back door and into the kitchen, where we then take a turn into the hallway. Here, he stops and stares down at me. “I need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“You know how much I love your mouth and your mind. But you’ve got to stop saying shit to bad guys that makes them want to hit you,” he says in a calm voice. “Please. I can feel it giving me new gray hairs every time you do it.”
My shoulders drop. “I don’t mean to.”
“But you kind of do.”
“They’re just such assholes.”
He nods. “I know they are. Doesn’t stop sarcasm from being a bad defense against a fist.”
I rest my back against the wall and sigh. “Fine.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” He’s still holding the hand he led me inside by. But he’s not touching me otherwise. Just standing there watching me with those dark blue eyes of his. There’s an intimacy to this—me and him standing alone in the shadows having a stolen moment. “How was your day?”
“The horrors persist, but so do I.”
“Good job.”
“We did gardening,” I say. “I made Nash haul buckets of water. That was fun for me.”
The frown descends. “I don’t like him being around you.”
“He was fine. Bowie wanted to hang out with the girls and Nash is his security blanket, so…” I take a deep breath. “You called me ‘baby’ this morning.”
“Yeah.”
“And you called me ‘wife’ yesterday.”
He nods. “Yes, I did.”
“And ‘love’ came out of your mouth before. You need to stop making it weird between us.”
“Honestly it seems a little late for that, given everything.” He winces and thinks it over. “Can’t help but notice you don’t seem actually upset by me using any of this language.”
“Not upset exactly. Perturbed might be a better word.”
“Hmm.”
I don’t know what to say or do with all of this. Which is a lie. So many years of trying to make emotionally backward boys feel something besides lust for me. To stop playing games and cheating and ghosting me. This man is not without his issues. Truly. But he’s devoted to me in a way I’ve never experienced before.
“Are you even the smallest bit interested in Naomi?” I ask out of curiosity. “I mean, she’s so cool.”
“Interested in what way?”
“You know.”
He cocks his head and stares down at me in wide-eyed wonder. Then he lifts his hand and strokes my neck. His gentle touch soon turns firm, however, as he holds my neck in his grasp. I don’t know if I should be okay with this. But the side of his thumb slides over my skin and I don’t hate it. Not even a little.