Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
He huffs at me.
"Here." I hold the bone out to him. He sniffs it once and then snatches it like a little savage. "This is from Mason. You have to be nice to him. He isn't a serial killer, and I really like him."
"I like knowing that," Mason murmurs from behind me.
I spin around to find him leaning against the porch railing, watching Oscar and me with a smile tugging at his lips.
"I thought you were waiting outside."
"Changed my mind." He glances around at Oscar's little area. "This is nice. Did you do this?"
"Yeah. He's so little. I've heard stories about dogs his size being carried off by birds and stuff. Screening it in seemed safer."
Oscar picks that moment to drop the bone and growl at Mason.
"Oscar!" I cry softly. "I told you to be nice."
"He's fine," Mason murmurs, striding toward us. I'm surprised when Oscar doesn't immediately try to launch at him. He usually hates when anyone gets too close to me. "May I?"
"Um…you can, but he'll probably bite."
"It'll be fine. Paulina bites the shit out of me all day, every day." Mason lifts his hand, letting it hover a few inches away for Oscar to sniff him.
I watch, fascinated, as my cranky little dog growls, sniffs, growls, sniffs, and then stretches forward to lick his hand.
"Holy shit." I gape, shocked, when Oscar squirms free of my arms, catapulting his little body into Mason's arms.
Mason catches him with a chuckle, scratching behind his ears. "Good boy," he murmurs. "You aren't scary at all, are you? You're just misunderstood."
"Misunderstood?" I gape at him. "He tried to eat the mailman for looking at him yesterday."
"Nah," Mason says softly, flipping Oscar to his back to scratch his belly. Oscar just stares up at him, his tongue lolling out. "He tried to eat the mailman for looking at you, Rebel. You're his most valuable resource, so he guards you. But he knows I don't want to take you away, isn't that right, Oscar? I'm here to help you guard her."
Oscar gives him a doggy-smile, his legs spread wide like he's the dang king of the world. I just stare at him in shock, my heart in a vise, not sure what is most dangerous: Mason winning over my hell-beast of a dog, or Mason talking about guarding me like I'm something precious.
They're both doing things to me that they shouldn't. All kinds of strange, amazing, beautiful things.
I'm in so much trouble here. Way more than I was when I thought he was a serial killer.
"I'll never get tired of this view," I murmur an hour and a half later, staring out at the waves crashing against the shore. We're at a restaurant at the beach half an hour from Santa Maria, with the Pacific stretching out before us. The sun is just about to set, turning the water that gorgeous orange-dappled-blue color that feels magical.
"Yeah?" Mason grins over at me. "You a beach baby, Rebel?"
"Born and raised. I've been in California my whole life. I don't think I'd know what to do if I didn't have the ocean right there, ready for me to sink my toes into the sand."
His smile softens. "I bet you look beautiful chasing the waves."
"It's more like they chase me," I mutter. "I just try to survive."
He reaches across the table for my hand, lifting it to his lips. "Somehow, I doubt that. The whole world bends around you."
My heart flutters again. It's been doing a lot of that tonight. I'm not sure what to do with the feeling. It's so damn new and foreign, but I like it a whole hell of a lot. Maybe more than is safe for me.
"What about you?" I ask, trying to rein things in and stay rational here. I need that—rationality. If I let myself get carried away, I'll be naming our future children before the night ends, and I can't afford to do that. Not when this is so new. Not when my history says this is going to end in disaster.
"I'm not interested in bending the world. I prefer to go with the flow," he teases.
"I meant, where did you grow up?"
"Oregon."
"Really?"
"Yep. Lived there until I moved here for college."
"What did you study?'
"You sure you want to know?"
"Yes." I pause, narrowing my eyes at him. "Unless you're going to say serial killers. That subject is banished."
He chuckles. "I studied classic literature."
"So that's how you know Darcy, Heathcliff, and Rochester!"
His eyes light up with humor as he cuts a bite of his steak. "You're surprised?"
"Yes. No." I scowl at him. "Still annoyed that you'd marry Heathcliff. He's cruel and abusive!"
"He was also ostracized because of his race and treated deplorably."
"Very true, but tormenting others the same way he was tormented eroded any moral high ground he might have had. If everyone lived with as much hatred in their hearts as he had, the world would be a terrible place. Regardless of what's done to us, we're still responsible for the harm we do to others."