Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
He needed to find out who her bastard of a father was. And then he had to make him pay.
“Good. I’d like to give you hugs. I think you could use them.” Jeb brushed her hair back off her face. “Now, do you have anything special that you like to sleep with?”
Casey yawned. “Um, yeah.”
“What? Where is it?”
“I have an alligator. Don’t worry, he’s a toy,” she said quickly.
“Whew.” He put his hand on his chest. “I was a bit worried for a moment.”
She giggled. “Did you think that I had a real, live alligator hiding in the closet, Daddy?”
“The thought did cross my mind. So your toy alligator is in the closet?”
“Uh-huh.” She watched as he walked to the closet and found the alligator sitting on a shelf.
Grabbing hold of it, he carried the toy back to her.
“Here you are. Does he or she have a name?” he asked.
“Mr. Pickles. I know it’s a strange name for an alligator. But I got him when I was a kid and I really liked pickles. I still love pickles. A lot.”
“Good to know.”
She drew Mr. Pickles under the covers, holding him tight.
Damn.
Adorable.
He tucked the blankets around them both, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Sleep well, baby. Daddy will see you in the morning.”
Jeb waited until she’d fallen asleep then snuck out. He moved down to his office. He opened the email from the private investigator who had run a quick background check on Casey.
Tex had refused to hand over the background check he’d run. He’d just laughed and ended the call. Although, he hadn’t been laughing when Jeb had put in a complaint about Happy and the way he’d treated Casey.
As expected there was nothing in the background check that set off any alarms. But that wasn’t what he was looking for.
There it was. Her father’s name.
George Reynolds the Third.
Hmm. He had heard of him. He did a bit of a quick search.
Right. George Reynolds the Third owned the largest horse farm in Connecticut. Jeb had some connections he could lean on in Connecticut.
It was time to start ruining good old George.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Oh no!” she cried. “Oh no! Oh no!”
The smoke alarm was screaming.
Shit.
That noise was so obnoxious. How far did the noise reach? To the moon?
Casey slid into the kitchen, nearly falling as her feet threatened to give out on her.
Stupid fluffy socks.
They were really cute, though.
They were green with a tail at the top and two eyes on top of her toes. They could be lizard socks but she was choosing to think of them as alligators.
“How do I turn it off? Where’s a towel? Oh no! Everything is burned!” she cried.
Wyatt rushed in after her. “Wow! What’s that smell? What did you burn?”
“Dinner,” she said as she opened the oven door. If she could get rid of the source of all the smoke, then maybe she could get the alarm to stop.
But all that did was make the smoke billow in her face. She coughed and ran her hand in front of her face, her eyes streaming.
Quickly, she shut the door again and turned off the oven. There were no flames at least. Grabbing a chair, she climbed onto it and could just reach the smoke alarm. She unscrewed it, lifting it off and tossing it away.
The noise immediately stopped.
Thank god.
Casey got off the chair and sat on it, exhausted.
Wyatt came and stood in front of her, his eyes wide. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah. The smoke alarm doesn’t look too good, though.”
She glanced down at the smoke alarm which she hadn’t meant to throw.
Drat.
“Looks like I owe your dad a new smoke alarm,” she said with a sigh.
Casey had been here four nights. She’d really thought that she might be getting better at cooking by now.
It hadn’t seemed to be that hard to master.
Turns out she was wrong.
She was crap at cooking. She was crap at laundry. Today, she’d done some washing and hadn’t thought about the fact that she shouldn’t mix her whites with colors.
And, yep, now Jeb’s white sheets were streaked with pink.
Oops.
Casey was starting to worry that she was crappy at everything. It didn’t help that she hadn’t seen Jeb much. He’d been busy with the ranch. However, it was Friday evening and she’d hoped that Jeb would come home in time for dinner.
Which is why she’d attempted roast beef.
Turns out she really shouldn’t have tried roast beef.
Getting up, she walked to the oven again. This time she stood to the side as she opened it. Not as much smoke erupted from it this time.
Whew.
Reaching for a towel, she drew the tray out and placed it on the top of the stove. When she checked under the foil she could see that the top of the meat was dark. And all the vegetables around it were shriveled up and black.