Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“Fuuuuuuck,” he cries out. “You’re a sadist, woman.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’ve barely started. Don’t be a baby.”
He grits his teeth, thankfully keeping his big mouth shut for a minute, as I increase my massage intensity. I know he wants to get back to playing soccer, but he’s in a lot of pain. Unless we address the issue and get it to heal, he’ll only make things worse.
Eventually, I’m able to reduce some of the stiffness in his hamstring. Now on to the next part.
“I want you to relax while I stretch you,” I instruct. “Don’t tense up, even if it hurts. I’ll go slowly.”
I start with a straight leg raises stretch and slowly lift his leg until his face twists in pain.
“Too much.” He curses again, earning a few more nasty looks. “Why are you so cruel?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not taking it past what you can handle. We’re going to hold it here for a few seconds. All we’re doing is lengthening the muscle.”
Sophia grabs a rolling chair and wheels it over to us. Riko groans again, this time because of her.
“A sadist and a psychopath. What do I owe the honor?” he grumbles. “Seriously, don’t you have other people to torment?”
Sophia laughs. “No way. I only torment babies and you’re the only one crying right now.”
“Not crying.”
Drew stalks over to us, grabs the back of Sophia’s chair, and wheels her over to his office. Riko praises Drew for being “the real MVP.”
The next half hour he curses at me and his stupid leg, but by the end, when I’m no longer pushing his muscles to their limits, he’s back to his happy self.
“Hope to see you never, Casey,” he says as he leaves.
Our receptionist, Jenna, grins evilly at him. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re scheduled for the day after tomorrow.”
We both laugh as he leaves, shooting us the bird.
Work is fun. If only I could stay here all day. It’s when I go home, everything is hard.
The house is so quiet.
Not that Derek was an especially noisy man. There’s a certain emptiness that I can’t seem to fill with just me. It sucks. Really sucks.
When I walk inside, though, a blur of orange darts past my feet, once again hiding out at my place.
This is becoming a problem.
He meows from the kitchen, waiting on me to serve him. With a groan, I follow the presumptuous cat to where he sits by the refrigerator.
“Got a taste for milk and now you’re an addict.” I laugh as I make him a small bowl. Since I don’t have cat food, he gets a can of tuna. “You can’t stay here forever, little dude.”
But what if he did?
It would sure fill the empty void Derek left.
Someone knocks on my back door, and I scream in surprise. Nothing can deter the cat from his feast, though, and he continues to happily eat.
I make my way over to the door and nearly trip over my own two feet when I see Brayden peeking in through the window.
My skin flashes hot and I absently tug at my shirt, wondering if it looks too tight. There’s not much I can do to make myself feel or look better between here and answering the door, so I resign myself to not worry about it.
Easier said than done.
“Hey,” I say, opening the door a crack. “What’s up?”
Brayden arches an eyebrow and smirks. “I think you know what’s up.”
Meow.
I close my eyes and groan, knowing I’ve been caught. “To my defense, I didn’t invite him.”
Brayden laughs. “Now that I know you’re harboring a fugitive, can I come in?”
Brayden Foss in my house?
Wouldn’t be the first time. He’s fixed a few things in the past, some by himself and some with Reid.
But now…
Now it feels different.
“Uh, sure,” I say a little too breathlessly. “You can try and wrangle this cat since he doesn’t listen to me.”
I move aside so Brayden can enter. As he passes, I get a whiff of his clean scent. Then, my thoughts wickedly travel to thoughts of him having just showered.
Do. Not. Think. About. That.
My skin is on fire from embarrassment. What is it about Brayden that gets me all flustered?
“Well,” Brayden says as he squats beside the cat to scratch its head, “if it isn’t the notorious Mo himself. Your human is looking for you, man.”
Mo meows as if to complain.
“She calls him Mean One, or Mo for short.” Brayden looks up at me, a cute smile on his face. “He seems pretty sweet to me.”
“I don’t think Mo likes it there,” I tell him, scrunching my nose. “She has so many cats. So. Many. Surely, she won’t miss one.”
He scoops Mo into his arms and stands. The cat protests with loud meows, but doesn’t try to get away, instead, enjoying the scratches Brayden gives him. I can’t help but step closer so I can pet Mo too.