Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Are you going to lock me in my room again?”
I ran my hands through my hair. “While we’re outside, yes.”
“I could sweep the steps or something.”
Her voice sounded so sad, and I hated it. Maybe a little fresh air would do her some good. “Will you try to run?”
“No.”
“Let me see your hands.”
She held them out, and I peeled the large bandage off her palm. The biggest gash looked like it was healing, the skin cool to my touch. I looked up as I ran my finger over the skin. “Does it hurt?”
“Not much.”
I frowned and reached for my coffee. I drank it in silence while I made a decision. “If you try to run, I’ll tie you up,” I stated, my voice low and serious. “For good. No more freedoms at all.”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t want you hurting your hands again.”
She shook her head. “I just want to go outside.” Her voice was pleading. “I hate being in that room, alone.”
I leaned over and grabbed a bag off the counter, handing it to her. Her eyes widened as she pulled out the thick scarf, hat, and mittens I had requested Sean pick up. A smile so bright it warmed the room appeared on her face, and before I knew what was happening, she pressed a kiss to my cheek and flung her arms around my neck in a tight hug. Pulling back fast, she scampered down the hall. “I’ll be ready in five minutes!” she called over her shoulder.
I sat, frozen. I could feel the heat on my cheek where her lips had touched. Smell the scent of her hair where it brushed my skin. Feel the lingering warmth of her brief touch. I liked it—I liked all of it. With a start, I realized I was covering my cheek where her lips had been, as if holding her kiss onto my skin.
My head fell back as I groaned.
I was in such trouble.
Deep, fucking trouble.
Skylar mostly hung around the front of the house as Sean and I shoveled and used the snowblower. I kept an eye on her, but other than standing and seemingly daydreaming, she didn’t try anything. She used the broom to sweep the steps, but I saw her struggle, even with that simple task, due to her hands. When she sat down on the steps with a huff, I smiled. She was wearing an extra coat of Sean’s that was far too big on her and a pair of my boots I had laced up as tight as possible. She looked ridiculous. The hat and scarf looked pretty on her, though, the blue color a nice contrast with her skin. She bent over, playing with the snow, and I let her be for a while. When I needed a break, I made my way over to check on her. She smiled at me, her cheeks pink.
“You okay? Ready to go inside?”
“No! I’m being good!”
I snickered. “Yes, you are—surprisingly.” I frowned. “Are you sure you’re not too cold?”
She shook her head. “I have lots of layers and socks.”
“Okay.” I turned to go back when she called out.
“Cian!”
I looked over my shoulder.
“Thanks for checking up on me.”
I grinned and started to say something teasing, when it hit me. Right in the face.
A snowball.
Then another. This time in the chest.
I looked up at Skylar, who was now standing, another snowball in hand. I glanced to the steps and realized she’d built herself up quite the pile. Not taking my eyes off her, I bent down, gathering up some snow.
“You sure you want to play this game, Kitten?”
She giggled and threw the one in her hand, missing me totally. “Bring it on, fuckwit.”
And so it began.
“I give!” Skylar squealed, holding out her hands. She was covered in snow.
I hesitated, not ready to lower my arm quite yet. She had already tricked me once, then got me right in the face.
Her supply had been depleted quite rapidly, and thanks to her fairly lousy aim, most of them ended up missing me. From then on, we’d chased each other, throwing and laughing. My hits were far more accurate. Sean ignored us, using the snowblower and working on the driveway, although I could see his laughter on occasion when Skylar would celebrate a rare hit with a little dance.
“Step away from the snow,” I ordered.
She moved, and I scanned all around her. I lowered my arm and nodded. “I win.”
“Says who?”
“I still have a snowball. That means I win.”
“I got rid of all mine first—that means I win.”
I snorted. She changed the rules every game so she won.
“I don’t think so.” I tossed the ball in the air. “I could always throw this one—one last hit and prove I won.”
She slammed her hands on her hips. “I called no joy! You wouldn’t dare.”
No joy? What movie had she gotten that from?