Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
I absolutely refused to allow the look on his face to penetrate when he said, this time the quiet of his tone being the soft-gentle-sweet variety, “Baby, I think we need to talk.”
“You said what you had to say back then, Knox. My decision was made. So what’s yours?”
More soft-gentle-sweet, God help me.
“You know I want you in my life.”
“Okay, then I’ll be back to put the stuff away and with some ready meals so you can nuke something decent to eat other than chips and dip.”
With that, I returned his water bottle to the coffee table and marched to the door.
“Luna.”
I turned to him, took one look at his face and begged, “Don’t.”
He did.
“I should never have started with her.”
“You were free to do so, so I don’t know why you think that.”
He flinched.
I so should not have come there.
We were doing each other damage.
God, I hoped I could return and put his food away without ripping us both open again.
“Is there anything you want from the grocery store?” I asked.
“I’ll be able to get around better in a few days.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No, there’s nothing I want from the store.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Thanks, babe.”
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
Neither of us said anything.
I took that as my cue…
And got the hell out of there.
FOUR
CLUELESS
It was after the whole confrontation with Jessie, when we found out about her brother, and then we found Eric in her apartment, the two of them, to our shock, enjoying a cozy Thanksgiving.
It was also after precisely five flirty texts, this being after a number of flirty looks and a few flirty chats before and after Thanksgiving dinner at my mom and dad’s.
That was when there was a knock on my door.
Late.
I knew who it was, and I couldn’t stop smiling to myself.
I opened the door, and Knox stood there.
“We doin’ this?” he asked.
So damned cocky.
And hot as all hell.
“We are so doing this,” I replied.
He came in, his arm rounding me, totally all the way up in my space, all the while his head angled down.
Mine tipped back.
He kicked the door closed with his foot.
And it was on.
My phone buzzing with a call took my mind off my memories, thankfully.
When I looked at the screen, I was less thankful.
Brady.
I had one kid down (Harmony, and by “down” I meant she’d had her bottle and was asleep), and two kids Dream had informed me she was going to read to before bedtime, but they were in their PJs, using the last dregs of energy to bang on stuff, pick it up and toddle around with it only to drop it, and try to get the very minimal things lying around that they weren’t allowed to have (that last was their favorite activity).
I needed to stop being a wuss, talk to Brady, admit we’d effed up and move on so he could ask Gemma out and I could stop being my own version of Cheyenne, not letting go of a guy who let me go.
Bonus, Dream would be home soon, so I had an excuse for not being able to talk long.
I offered Feather an old remote Dad gave Dream for the kids to play with, she turned her nose up at it, reached for the real remote she could not have (my niece was showing early signs of genius, she was already multi-tasking), all while Dusk shouted “Mote! Mote!” as I took Brady’s call.
“Hey, Brady.”
“You good?” he asked.
He was really such a nice guy.
“Yeah.”
“The way you left the hospital, Loon…” He didn’t finish that.
“It was just…the same old thing,” I explained lamely.
“We need to talk.”
“We’re talking, but I have to warn you, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m babysitting for Dream, and she’s going to be back soon. I popped by Knox’s on the way here, and I need to go to the grocery store and pop back on the way back home.”
“You popped by Knox’s?”
“I had a few things to say about him going into that sitch by himself.”
“Damn straight,” he muttered.
“Then I saw that Cap dropped him off without any creature comforts so I’m sorting that out for him.”
He was silent.
“Brady?” I called.
“Again, we need to talk, babe.”
“And we’re talking, aren’t we?”
“Doesn’t sound like you have a lot of time, or a lot of attention,”—yes, Dusk was still shouting “Mote! Mote!”—“and we need both.”
Fantastic.
“Can you do dinner tomorrow?” I queried.
“Sure.”
“Okay, we’ll do that.”
“Right. Got somewhere you’re dying to go?”
“Not really.”
“The Porch. Six.”
Of course he’d pick a sports bar.
Fortunately, he picked a good one.
I could hear Dream’s car in the drive, perfect timing.
“I’ll see you there. And Dream’s home so I gotta do the handover.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Later, Brady.”
“Later, Loon.”
We rang off.
Dream came in looking, well…dreamy.
Shit, maybe that Reiki crap worked.
“Hey,” I greeted as the kids raced (or Dusk raced, Feather waddled, fell down and got up) to her crying, “Mommy!”