Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I’m tempted to pull out my cell and snap a picture.
“Are you staring at my nipples?” she asks.
“Of course not,” I lie.
She arches a pointed brow.
“Okay, I was staring at your nipples.” I fish my keys out of my pocket, proud of myself for only wobbling once as I shift around her. “But in my defense, they’re very nipple-y at the moment.”
“Well, I’m cold,” she says. “And super turned on by how much we smell like mud and sewage.”
“At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
She sighs. “No, just…everything else.”
“Maybe not. We’ll see when the water goes down. Until then, positive thoughts.” I open the door and gesture inside. “Now, how about some jammies and a hot chocolate?”
She sighs again, more heavily this time. “Jammies sound good, but I’m too—” She breaks off, lunging forward to grab my arm as my stupid knee buckles while I’m closing the door. “Parker! Are you okay?”
I wince and grit out, “Fine.”
“No, you’re not.” Worry fills her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I say as I head for the kitchen, waving her off when she reaches for my arm again.
“You’re limping.”
“I’m walking with character.”
“Come on, Parker. Be serious.” She steps closer, the towel sliding off one shoulder as she reaches for me again. This time, I let her wrap her cold little fingers around my bicep. “How bad is it?”
I want to lie again, to brush it off with a joke, but it’s too late for that.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Something popped when I was tossing you into the truck. Could be nothing. Could be…” I trail off with a shrug, unwilling to voice the possibility that it could be everything. “I’ll get it checked out tomorrow.”
Her expression flickers, landing somewhere between anger and guilt. “You shouldn’t have come for me. You should have stayed safe.”
“Yeah, well, I have this thing where I don’t like my friends to die, so…”
She scowls. “We aren’t friends. You didn’t owe me anything.”
“And you don’t owe me anything,” I assure her. “I made the choices I made, and I would make them again. In a heartbeat. But you don’t get to be mad at me for saving your life because that makes me sad.”
Her angry face is almost comically intense as she whispers, “I’m not mad at you, dum-dum. I’m mad at me. I will never forgive myself if your career is—”
“Hush,” I say, afraid she’ll jinx me if she finishes that sentence. “Come on. Let’s get you to the guest room.” I start forward again. “Before my gentlemanly restraint gives out, and I start staring at your nipples again. We’ll do a proper tour tomorrow, but this is the kitchen.” I motion vaguely toward the cabinets. “I hope it meets with your chefly approval.”
“It’s gorgeous,” she says, still sounding irritated.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing a smile. It is nice, complete with granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and the kind of coffee maker the professional baristas use. The whole house is nice.
It’s everything I wanted. A real house in a real neighborhood with real neighbors who complain when I forget to bring my trash cans in. I fucking love my slice of suburbia, no matter how much my teammates tease me about choosing to live in a place where all the restaurants close by ten.
It feels good out here. Peaceful. Easy.
It feels even better with Makena here.
Even when she’s pissed at herself and taking it out on me.
“You sure you don’t want hot chocolate?” I ask, wincing as I glance back, and my knee turns in a way it really doesn’t like.
“No, I want you to sit your ass down,” she says, pointing to the kitchen table. “There. Now. Sit. Take a load off and let me take a look.”
“I told you I’ll get it checked out tomorrow. Right now, I just—”
“Sit.” She points again, with the authority of someone who used to make me eat my vegetables before I got ice cream after dinner. “Now. I’ll help you get your pants off, and we’ll see how bad it is together.”
I bob my brows. “Ah, so that’s your plan, is it? You don’t need excuses, Mack. I’m happy to take my pants off for you anytime.”
She rolls her eyes with an exasperated huff that makes it clear she will not be tolerating any of my monkey shine.
“Okay, fine,” I say, limping to the closest chair. “But I’m perfectly capable of getting my pants off by myself. It’s not that bad.”
Please don’t be that bad, I silently pray as she reaches for my belt buckle with all the sensuality of a nurse at the end of a double shift in the Extra Bloody and Gross ward.
“This is not sexy.” I pout as she pushes my pants down my thighs. “At all.”
“Stop complaining and sit,” she says. “It’ll be easier to get them the rest of the way off if you’re not on your feet.”