Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I don't think it's going to go very well. I just have to hope that she's mature enough not to let it affect her work so Jericho doesn't jump in my shit the way I know he's expecting he's going to have to.
Chapter 27
Caitlyn
Being safe and feeling completely safe are two very different things, I realize as I sit on the bed in the room provided for me.
I know the men here, especially Hemlock, Ace, and Jericho would lay down their lives to protect their women, and I would benefit from that just by sheer proximity.
I can't say, even with how devastated Roman looked when he entered the house, that he'd do the same for me, but I also know it's ridiculous to expect something like that from a man I hardly know.
There wasn’t a second when he had his arms wrapped around me that I felt threatened or had any desire for him to release me, and I think that scares me more than the fear I would've felt if he were anyone else.
It's awful wanting something I know I'll never be allowed to have. I anticipate a conversation with both Mr. Hart and Nolan about crossing professional and personal boundaries, but thankfully, there hasn't been a knock on the bedroom door just yet.
Roman gave me exactly what I needed when he spotted me when he came inside the house, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty, and I realize now that maybe the embrace went a little too far, especially for it to have happened in front of so many witnesses.
You could hear a pin drop in the room, telling me without having to look around that we were the center of attention. It's something I've always hated, but it almost didn't even register when his arms were around me. I managed to keep my gaze down when we exited the room, but the uncertainty of what was to come next has kept me in the bedroom long after the sun came up earlier.
I blow out a rough breath when my stomach grumbles for what seems like the millionth time. I'm starving, but in my haste to pack clothes, I only packed kibble for Kiva. I know they probably wouldn't have any issue with me grabbing something from the kitchen, but at the same time, it feels incredibly awkward to just go downstairs and make myself at home. I don't want to step on any toes and disrespect the graciousness that has already been offered to me.
Kiva yips, and I know she's demanding breakfast herself. It's what makes me move into action. She needs to go outside for a bathroom break before she eats.
"Fine," I mutter as I climb off the bed.
Having dressed in a fresh change of clothes earlier, all I have to do is grab her bag of kibble and her bowl before opening the bedroom door.
I stick my head out the door, looking up and down the hallway. When I find it empty, I take a step out of the room, waiting for Kiva to cross the threshold before closing the door again. I don't run into a soul as I descend the stairs, but I hear voices coming from the kitchen.
Warm smiles and hellos greet me the second I step into the open floor plan kitchen.
"Ms. Caitlyn!" Eli yelps as he drops down from the barstool he was sitting at to eat his breakfast.
I nearly drop the bowl and kibble as he collides with me for a hug.
"Can I walk Kiva this morning?"
"Eli," Aspen says, her voice a little exasperated.
"I finished my breakfast," he assures his mother, releasing me and running back to his bowl.
She gives him a smile as he tilts it to show her that the food is mostly gone.
"If Ms. Caitlyn doesn't mind, then I'm fine with it," Aspen says.
Nolan stands from his spot, making his way toward the back door. The man will give his son anything he wants.
"Saves me from getting frostbite," I say as Eli rushes to place his breakfast dishes in the sink before running toward the back door, where Nolan is already holding out the child's winter coat.
The leash is scooped up next, Kiva already waiting at their feet with her tail wagging.
I almost regret letting Eli take over the dog duties because it leaves me standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by people with nothing to do.
"I made waffles, eggs, and bacon," Cora says, pointing toward the spread on the counter. "The eggs are scrambled, but I can fry some if you prefer."
"Thank you," I whisper, a lump forming in my throat. "Scrambled is perfect."
When was the last time someone cooked food with me in mind? I can't recall a single time in my adult life.
I fight emotions, telling myself she didn't do it specifically for me, that others were also involved, and it's exactly what it takes not to get overly emotional in front of people I barely know.