Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 70488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
He was always careful to keep them off of my bare skin.
But that hand did find its way to my ass as he pulled me in tight against him.
When he pulled away, we were both breathless.
“Left the truck running. You want to go to my place in town?”
I smiled. “I’d love to. I just need to pack a small bag.”
He let me go. “Pack your whole closet.”
I raised a brow. “A little early to be moving in, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “If you need a week to make you more comfortable with it, I’ll give it to you.”
I snickered. “How magnanimous of you.”
He winked. “Go pack your bag, gorgeous.”
I packed my bag.
Then packed all my spare essentials so I could surreptitiously leave them underneath the counter in his bathroom so I wouldn’t have to pack such a big bag next time.
Maybe I’d leave my dirty clothes at his house, too, so I wouldn’t have to have a bag at all next time.
By the time I was finished with my bag, Hux had gathered all the stuff from his place and was waiting by the door glaring out the front glass.
“What is it?” I asked as I came up behind him.
“The Hubers,” he grumbled. “All watching your house like the fucking creeps that they are.”
I bumped his hip with mine. “Let’s go.”
He opened the door for me and held it open for me to precede him outside.
He had the door locked and the truck door open for me before I’d made it to the bottom of the walk.
“Getting your snow legs?” he teased.
“This walking and not falling on your ass thing is kind of scary,” I admitted. “I’ve never had to deal with snow like this. Maybe I should get home early and shovel my walk.”
“No,” he muttered. “I’ll do it.”
I snorted. “You can’t shovel my walk for me, Hux.”
I climbed up into the truck, but he caught me before I could close the door, leaning in close before saying, “Says who?”
Then he pecked me on the chin and closed my door, but only after ensuring I was safely buckled in.
He said something to the Hubers as he rounded the hood, then he was leaving before he’d had the chance to put his seat belt on.
“What’d they say when you were leaving?”
His jaw worked. “Comments about your ass that I’d rather not think about, lest I turn around and shove my steel-toed boots down their throats.”
My lips quirked. “They can’t even see my ass.”
His face turned toward me for half a breath before saying, “If I can, they can.”
The drive to his place was uneventful.
He never put his seat belt on the entire time, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
“Hey,” I said after a while. “Why does your seat belt not ding and mine does? We have the same truck, only a few years difference.”
“Because I turned off the sensors in the seat belt.” He winked. “The dinging drives me insane.”
I gasped. “Can you do that to mine?”
He pulled into the covered parking spot next to the warehouse before saying, “No.”
I pouted. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you driving without your seat belt,” he said. “If it dings, it’ll annoy you, and you’ll put it on.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Isn’t that a little bit hypocritical?”
He shrugged. “I care about you a little more than I care about myself.”
I harrumphed. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold.”
It was cold.
The short drive to his place hadn’t warmed the air up enough in the cab to make it comfortable.
I shivered when I opened the door, but I wasn’t in the cold for long. He had the door open and he was ushering me inside in moments.
“It may not be snowing, but it feels like it should be,” I admitted as I ran my hands up and down the length of my arms.
“Montana fall for you,” he joked. “Are you sure you can handle it here?”
I lifted my chin. “I can handle it anywhere.”
Twenty-One
What’s your blood type? IDK, fucking boiling.
—Hux to Odin
Hux
I had the heat cranked up so high I knew that my heating bill was going to gut me this month.
But seeing her rush of relief was enough to make me not give a damn.
I had plenty of money.
Between a small trust fund that my great-grandfather had left me and a hell of a good paycheck every month from my job, I had more than enough to go around.
Plus, the work wasn’t ever going to lighten up.
I’d have to quit first, and that wasn’t happening any time soon.
“Did y’all decide to work tomorrow?” I asked as she shed the layers at the front door.
She hung each layer—my jacket, hers, then her sweatshirt—on the coat hook right beside the entryway.
Once she was clear of the coat hook, I followed suit, kicking my boots off last.