Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 81930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Some company, since he was now a lonely old man?
Great. Now, he was starting to grow morose.
Stop it.
As the waitress brought his meal, he forced his attention around the rest of the room. He took in guests. Tops with their Littles and subs. They were everywhere. Easter time certainly seemed to be busy at the ranch. He’d missed this.
He wished Anna could be here, but for the first time, her absence wasn’t a huge gaping hole inside him. Was it possible he was ready for something more?
He frowned at the thought.
His attention turned back to the group of four in the middle of the room, right as Marcus was in the middle of a rather animated story. His hands shot out as he spoke, hitting the water glass next to him. It went flying, spilling its contents all over Isla and smashing next to her.
He couldn’t hear exactly what the younger man said as chagrin filled his face. But it was Isla who surprised and alarmed him. She slid off her chair, kneeling down to start picking up the pieces of glass.
With her bare hands.
Oh, hell no!
Eliot wasn’t a man who angered quickly or easily. But seeing a Little put themselves at risk was something he couldn’t stand. Before he even thought about what he was doing, he was up and out of his chair and kneeling next to her. He didn’t care if he kneeled on the broken glass. All he wanted was to prevent her from hurting herself.
“Put that down,” he ordered.
But he obviously sounded too gruff, because she gave a gasp of fright and tightened her grasp on the piece of glass she was holding. Then her gasp turned to a whimper of pain.
Shit.
“La-la!” Marcus kneeled next to them, reaching for her hand.
“Be careful,” Eliot barked. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Both of them stared at him in shock, their eyes wide, breath trapped.
“Isla, you’re bleeding.”
Eliot glanced up at the big, frowning guy.
He gave Eliot a sharp look. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Eliot Baird. I met your Littles earlier when you were checking in.” And he really wanted to know why he seemed to only be taking care of one of them while leaving the other two to get into trouble.
“We’re not his Littles,” Marcus said, gaping at him. “Ew. He’s my cousin.”
Relief flooded him even though that was insane. He didn’t know these people. He wasn’t looking for anything.
Sometimes, though, it was when you weren’t searching that the greatest treasures came into your grasp.
Shit.
Enough of this. He needed to see to Isla.
“Get back away from the glass,” he warned Marcus.
The younger man just shook his head, moving closer to Isla. While Eliot understood that Little wanted to be near the clearly shaken woman, his spanking hand also longed to show this boy who was in charge.
A vision of Marcus over his lap getting his butt spanked filled his mind. Yeah, that was something he could definitely get behind.
But they weren’t his. And that wasn’t his right. He didn’t even know the dynamics of their relationship.
“Let go of the glass, La-la,” Marcus said. “You’re hurting yourself.”
“What? Oh. I’m sorry. Shoot.” She opened up her hand, showing the large piece of glass in her palm. She’d managed to slice into the skin. “I’m making a mess.”
A mess? Why would that be a concern? A few drops of blood had landed on the floor and her skirt. But nothing that constituted a mess. Not that anyone cared if she did make a mess.
He reached out to take hold of her hand, pausing as she flinched slightly. Marcus watched him warily.
“I just want to help. Here. Let’s wrap this around the cut.” He drew out a white handkerchief.
“You just carry a white handkerchief?” Marcus asked.
“Doesn’t everyone?” he asked.
“In case of a damsel in distress or because you think you’re going to have to wave it for surrender?”
“Hmm, more like a Little might need their face wiped or their tears dried,” he said.
Marcus’ face turned thoughtful, but he moved his attention back to Isla. The other Little who had been at their table was on her other side, while her Top was explaining to a waitress about what had happened.
“Little one, can I have your hand?” It was a risk calling her that. But it had slipped out before he could think better of it.
To his surprise, she immediately held her hand out. He made sure to remove the glass before he wrapped her hand.
“What happened? Is Isla hurt?”
He glanced up into Derek’s concerned gaze. “She’s cut her hand. It’s not bad. But I bet it stings.”
“It-it’s f-fine,” she said. But her lower lip wobbled slightly before she managed to get it under control.
Brave Little one. But was it bravery or was it because she felt like she couldn’t let anyone know her true feelings?