Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Hey, got a situation that I want you to look into.” I started right into the situation at hand. “I want you to look into it and let me know if we can press charges.”
Gentry harrumphed. “It’s snowing. Goddamn. You know I don’t function well in the snow.”
“Gentry, you’re going to have to get over this ‘I don’t do snow’ thing. We live here now. You can’t avoid it the rest of your life. Plus, you have a job that literally requires you to be outside a lot.”
“Just because I have a job that requires me to be outside doesn’t mean that I have to like it.”
“Come on, man. This is important. My friend’s having to deal with a lot of shit from this woman.”
“I’ll go.” He paused. “Has Apollo looked into her?”
“Yeah, and he’s finding all kinds of things.”
“Great. A fuckin’ nut job. Just what I want to deal with,” he grumbled and hung up. “Fuckin’ snow.”
My mouth twitched as he hung up.
“Do you think she’s okay?” Mable asked.
This girl and her big heart.
“She didn’t sound like she was in critical condition, but to be completely honest, I didn’t exactly ask,” I admitted.
A howl of wind hit the cabin, and we both looked outside as the snow started swirling sideways. “Gentry doesn’t like the snow, either?”
“Hates the snow,” he admitted. “He’s originally from Florida. Never gets below seventy there.”
“So you and him moved up here together?” she asked innocently.
My stomach twisted as I thought about how to answer that without outright lying to her.
I didn’t want to lie, but it seemed like I didn’t have much of a choice.
“We found each other once we got up here,” I admitted carefully, not lying, but not telling the entire truth, either. “Seems y’all aren’t super welcoming to newcomers. You give us a lot of shit about our cold intolerance.”
Like I’d hoped, she took the bait and changed the subject. Only, it was back to even more personal questions.
“Why did you move up here if you hate it?” she asked. “Montana is beautiful in the summer and all, but the winters make you want to die.”
“I needed a change of pace,” I admitted, which was honestly the truth. “Plus, it’s kind of nice being in a place that actually has four seasons.”
Again, not a lie.
But definitely not the whole truth, either.
I gestured toward the TV. “What do you want to watch?”
Sixteen
Guys like girls who take charge. Ask them out. Plan a date. Overthrow the government. Take some hostages. Burn down his ex’s house. Maybe buy him a puppy.
—Cody to Mable
Mable
I was literally in heaven.
It was no longer snowing outside. The wind wasn’t howling. And for once I could see the sun.
But the snow was thick, it was still cold as fuck, and I was curled up on the couch with Romeo with a fire burning in the fireplace, watching one of my favorite movies in the world.
“What makes you like this one so much?” Romeo asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I had a huge crush on Nicolas Cage. I was left to my own devices a lot, and the library had a ton of movies you could rent. All of the newer, good ones were always gone. But the older ones were always available. I think I love The Rock more, but my second favorite movie has to be The Shawshank Redemption.”
He jerked. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think that man deserved to be in prison, and I think it makes me happy that he was able to escape and live.”
Something odd came over his features for a long second before he cleared them and said, “This is my favorite part.”
I knew why.
Yet I listened to John Mason say: “Your best? Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and fuck the prom queen.”
God, I loved The Rock.
“I think that’s what is wrong with the world nowadays. Everyone is so worried about offending someone that you never truly get the real person. You get this half a man that tells you what he thinks you want to hear. There’re no real relationships anymore.”
“You would rather a man say what he’s truly thinking and not tell you what you want to hear?” he wondered.
I twisted slightly so that I was facing him.
We were both sharing the couch, but his long legs ate up quite a bit more of it than I did.
He was leaning against one arm, and I was leaning against the other.
His long legs were stretched out on the outside, one leg on the coffee table and the other on the couch. One white-socked foot rested by my hip, while the other took up a part of the TV screen in front of me.
I, on the other hand, was smushed into the couch cushions, cocooned between the overstuffed fabric and his body.