Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Dave waved back, and I continued down the two-lane road until I got to mine.
Turning down my street, I came to an abrupt halt when two bright headlights filled my vision.
Two
I speak four languages. English, profanity, sarcasm, and real shit.
—Creed’s secret thoughts
Creed
“Fuck!” I called out, feathering my brakes when I saw the woman on the moped start to slide.
The snow on the ground kept me from slamming on them, which is what I really wanted to do.
The truck rocked to a halt seconds later, but the woman on the moped kept going, sliding right into my truck and hitting it with a clunk of metal.
I threw the truck in Park and got out, my hand going to my pocket as I rounded the hood of the truck.
I dropped down onto the cold asphalt and placed the phone to my ear, already having dialed 9-1-1 in the time it took me to get to her.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher called out.
“A woman riding a moped,” I said as I felt for a pulse of the woman who was unmoving. “Slipped on the ice and slammed into my truck. She’s unconscious, but has a pulse.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
I gave her the coordinates quickly, leaving her on the line as I checked to see if the woman was breathing.
She was, thank God.
She had a sizable gash from where her face connected with my truck, however.
“Shit,” I said as I held C-Spine. “Wake up, darlin’.”
The woman’s eyes fluttered, and she stared at me with shock in her eyes.
“Who’re you?” she asked.
My lips twitched despite the horrible setting in which we’d just met. “Creed.”
“Creed,” she said. “You hit me.”
“I didn’t hit you,” I automatically argued. “You slipped on the oil and ran into my rig.”
She started to move her head, but I didn’t allow her to move.
“Shit,” she hissed. “Ouch.”
Sirens sounded in the distance, and I let out a relieved breath.
“You called the ambulance?” she gasped, then groaned, her eyes squeezing shut.
“Sure did,” I said. “You’re going to the hospital to get checked out. You hit my truck really hard.”
She swallowed hard, flickering her eyes open once again.
“Will you call my sister to let Brawny out?” she slurred. “He needs fed, and he needs to go outside to potty.”
I frowned, the name of the dog sounding damned familiar. “Who is your sister?”
“Cody.” She licked her cracked lips. “Cody.”
Everything started to click into place at once.
Cody was a name that I knew.
Cody and her best friend, Mable, were together quite a bit. Mable was engaged to a good friend of mine, Romeo.
Cody and Mable had a sister, Birdee.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Are you Birdee?”
Birdee opened her eyes and looked at me with pain clouding her vision. “That’sssss meee.”
Shit.
The helmet that she’d been wearing was blocking most of her face and hair from me, and the winter coat was concealing the rest.
Had I seen her in the light of day, with her jeans and a long-sleeved tee, I could’ve told you who she was instantly.
I’d know those curves anywhere.
But the way she was bundled up—which made sense since she was riding a damn moped in the middle of winter—I couldn’t see any of those curves.
“I’ll call her the moment we get you on the bus,” I said.
“What bus?” She frowned.
“Ambulance,” I corrected. “You’re going to be going for a ride on an ambulance.”
“Great.” She grimaced. “Is my moped okay?”
I hadn’t spared a single thought for the state of her moped.
Moreso, what kind of crazy bitch was driving a moped in the dead of winter?
“I have no clue,” I said, even though it probably wouldn’t be seeing as it was tucked up underneath the front end of my cruiser.
“Dammit,” she grumbled. “How will I get to work now?”
That seemed like a later problem…
“Let’s focus on the state of your face,” I suggested. “Does your head hurt?”
She pursed her lips, her gaze slightly unfocused, and said, “The majority of my head feels fine. The front right side, however, feels like I hit your bumper.”
“That’s because you did, gorgeous…”
“What happened?” she groaned, shifting her legs from side to side.
“Well,” I said, “some dumbass decided to change their oil in their front yard. Then when they got done with their oil, they changed everyone else’s oil. Then when they were done, they dumped it down the storm drain.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I was actually out here running a call on a couple of baby moose covered in it. Seems they just dumped it into the drainage area, then sprayed water until they kind of sort of got it mostly down the drain.”
“You ran a call about some moose?” she wondered. “Really? Why would you be doing that?”
I backed up so that she could see the lapel of my jacket. “Montana FWP—Fish, Wildlife, and Parks—at your service.”
“Ahh,” she said. “I missed some baby moose in my neighborhood?”