Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
He gave her a curious look and rubbed a smudge of mustard from his lower lip. “Nah. You should lowball it. Offer the price you can afford. You never know, he might take it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to lose this house. They don’t come around that often, and I need a place to live right away. The timing is perfect. Besides, his agent is an ass, remember? He would laugh in my face if I submitted a lowball offer.”
Cody stared at her with an odd expression for a moment, then applied himself to eating his brat. “Are you sure it’s the right house?” he asked after a moment. “It’s pretty small.”
She snorted. “Like I could afford any bigger. No, it’s perfect. Just what I’ve always dreamed of.”
Cody looked thoughtful as he inhaled his food but he didn’t mention it again. After they ate, she washed the plates and set them in the drying rack, poured a fresh glass of wine, and sat on the couch with her Chromebook to send Brad Johnson the offer on the house while she watched a movie.
Cody plunked down beside her, tossed an arm around her shoulders. What are you looking to watch? Want me to drive?”
She rolled her eyes, but handed over the remote. She didn’t watch much television and sucked at figuring out what to watch. “Chick flick,” she said, just to test his reaction.
Both his eyebrows raised. “Are you serious?”
“Not really. I don’t care.” She cracked open the Chromebook to prepare the paperwork.
“You don’t care? Come on, give me more to work with than that.”
“I honestly don’t care.”
He frowned at her. “Chick flick it is,” he groaned.
12
Cody picked up Stone’s money from his bank. He’d felt like a bank robber, packing all that cash into a duffel bag that he stowed under the seat of his truck.
Afterward, he drove to Starbucks. He could hardly believe he was doing it, but Melissa had asked about coffee the first morning and he’d blown off her request every day since. She deserved it after putting up with his overbearing crap.
After the way she’d surrendered.
He’d been up the night before, staring at the text from his realtor, Brad Johnson, about her offer on the house. On one hand, he wanted her to have it. He’d loved her perspective about there being a perfect buyer for a house. Someone who would love it as much as he did. Yes, he wanted Melissa living in one of his houses.
The trouble was, he wasn’t sure he wanted her in that house.
He’d been starting to picture her in a different house altogether. One he’d love remodeling just for her. And him.
The thought of keeping Melissa, marking her and making her his made his shifter blood sing. The wolf wanted her. The wolf didn’t seem to care that she was only one quarter shifter. That their children would probably never be able to shift. That he’d lose his position as alpha because his mate was weak.
But beyond his intense physical need for her, there was more. He’d begun to understand her better. His initial assessment of her as a diva may have been off. She worked weekends as a bartender to get by—she was no stranger to hard work. She’d put up with a loser boyfriend out of a fierce sense of loyalty. He may think it was totally misplaced, but he admired the hell out of the sentiment. She bonded like a shifter.
She was sweet as honey when he wasn’t being an asshat and despite her frequent displays of defiance, had an innate response to dominance. Every time he’d won her surrender had been spectacular. Tender. Beautiful. He’d never felt so connected to another being—shifter or human—in his life.
So yeah, she deserved coffee this morning. And if he could wrap his mind around how to make it work mating her, a house.
He got out of his car to stand in line, staring at the board with the huge array of choices. Damn. He should’ve asked what kind of coffee drink she liked instead of trying to surprise her with it when she woke.
For the first time, ever, he really cared about making a female—his female—happy.
His phone rang and he frowned, glancing at a number he didn’t recognize.
“This is Steele.”
“I need your help.” He recognized the tight, desperate voice immediately. The new female shifter in town.
“What is it?” he asked sharply.
“Jayden—my son—he was hit by a car. The humans took him to a hospital in an ambulance.”
“And now you’ll be found by whomever you’re running from,” he finished. Unless the car had crushed his skull, the boy would recover from the car accident in no time. Far too quickly for doctors to understand. What’s more, his mother would have to show identification and give his name or risk alerting Child Protective Services.