Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Me too.”
The slight wrinkle in his brow would be a fallen face on anyone else. “Please don’t feel bad about what happened. When one door opens…”
“Another one closes.”
We looked at each other for a few seconds before I burst out laughing. All I get is a wobble of the lips from Thorn, but that’s more facial interaction than he usually gives, and it feels like a major triumph.
“It’s not funny,” he says, proceeding with caution.
“It’s not,” I agree. “But whoever said that if you laugh at the things you can’t control, even when they’re not funny, you’ll turn out okay in the end, was right.”
“Who said that?” Thorn asks.
“It’s more the gist of it.”
“Fake it until you make it.”
“Smile until you’re happy,” I say.
“I hate smiling.”
I nearly lose it again. “I’ve noticed.”
Thorn tosses me a set of keys. It’s a fob with a black tag, very clearly a rental. “Black sedan, tinted windows.”
I roll my eyes. “How did I know?”
I put my palm up, nearly right in Thorn’s face. “Be a good boy and stay.” Belatedly, I realize how dirty that sounds. Erotically dirty. My mind delves straight into the sexiest of places, which floods my whole body with smutty adrenaline.
Thorn has had practice at controlling his face and the rest of his body, so he’s a perfect gentleman. He doesn’t even give me a hint of a sarcastic grin, and thank fuck, he certainly doesn’t remind me that he was quite a good boy when he ate my pussy into the world’s hottest climax and never asked me to return the favor.
He cuddled after.
Listened to me.
And I left him there with a freaking note. That’s me. First. Class. Jerkhole.
I had to leave. I was afraid of how much I would have liked to stay, and it wasn’t right. We both knew that. It would have been one time, and then that one time would have been just one more time, and that would have turned into a soul-crushing, bone-deep ache for one more and one more and one more, without an end, which would have just led us both to hurt.
My mortification roots me to the spot. He’s dead serious when he leans forward half an inch, his voice rough and gravelly. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll try not to do that again in the future.”
I really hate doing the eyebrow trick, but I can feel them rising, and they won’t be good boys and sit down and stay. “The future?”
“The future,” he growls in his sexy, deep timber. I instantly break out in sexy goosebumps. “Go get my backpack. Please.”
Chapter fifteen
Thorn
The surgeon who arrives looks like one of those men who likes to be considered nondescript. He’s middle-aged and well-groomed, with an expensive, clean-cut look. He could easily be mistaken for a businessman if not for the all-black attire.
He came to the bus in black fatigues and a black Henley, similar to something I’d wear in the field and prefer at all other times. He sanitized the area, unpacked his bags, scrubbed his hands in the sink, donned fresh black gloves, and inspected my wound in no time.
He’s applying the stitches now.
Ephemeral is on the other side of the bus. I can see her trying not to wince whenever she looks this way. Right before Jack the surgeon identified himself, stepped onto the bus, I took the single sheet of white paper with the double-sided list of typed names out of my black backpack and handed it to Ephemeral.
“This is not a thing. A good half of these can’t be real.” She whips around but keeps her eyes glued to my face and not my side, where the gore cleanup is taking place. Her lips quiver, and it looks like she blinked at the sky and captured half of it in her eyes. They’re alive, shinier, and sunnier than ever.
“I assure you they’re all legitimate, well-vetted charities.”
She glances back down at the list. “Ants anonymous? Girls and Geezers for Goats? That’s not even politically correct. Who calls a senior citizen a geezer anymore? And girls? How old are we talking? Because women are not girls. The same applies to Babes for Beaks. Luckiest Cluckers? At least that one doesn’t rely on the silliest, inaccurate alliteration. People for the Protection and Prevention of Possible Scabies and Rabies? Granted, that’s important, but what a name. Save the Apples and the Alligators? Or this one. Trees and Teats. You have to be kidding me. How do they even get these registered?”
“Pretty sure I once heard of a company called Camel Towing, so I think most things go,” Jack says, tying off the line of stitches.
“I’m shocked it hasn’t made the list,” Ephemeral responds dryly.
“Because that’s a list of animal and insect charities. I want you to help me decide how we should divide up the money for this year.”