Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
At that, I burst out laughing.
“You’ve done more for me in the last twenty-four hours than Lynn did for me in eight years,” I informed her. “She wouldn’t have stayed with me at that funeral. She wouldn’t have taken the dog out for a walk—even if you did go against my direct orders—and she wouldn’t come with me without questioning why. Then complaining about it. Trust me. You’re nothing like her.”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“If I start to seem too clingy, overly excited, or genuinely annoying, you’ll tell me, right?” she asked hopefully.
“Settle, girl,” I whispered against her hair. “I’ve been watching you for months now. Don’t you think I know what goes on around me?”
She shivered. “I suppose you would.”
My grin was practically devilish.
“Watched you take your morning walk. Always about fifty steps behind you so I could admire your ass in those yoga pants as I did my cool down,” I murmured. “Watched you get an ice cream from the ice cream truck every Tuesday. Bombstick.”
She started to laugh.
“A Bombstick isn’t ice cream, it’s a popsicle,” she glared. “You must think I’m a child.”
“Trust me,” I told her, sweeping my hand down her side. “I think you’re anything but a child.”
***
“You’re acting like a child.”
I turned my glare to Truth.
“Did you say something you wanted me to answer?” I asked him. “I don’t need you here.”
“You’re the one who asked me to fly you to Kilgore. So I’m flying you to Kilgore. Don’t be an ungrateful dick head.”
He was right.
But I wasn’t in the type of mood to deal with his smart mouth. Especially not with the way the stupid security officer that worked for the small airport was staring at Imogen.
It also hadn’t surprised me, fifteen minutes ago, when the man had ‘randomly’ pulled Imogen out of the line and informed her that she needed to be checked more in-depth.
Lucky for him that he chose the woman to do the searching, because had it been that man, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my temper in check.
“She’s been in there forever,” I grumbled. “Not to mention she’s holding up the fucking line.”
“How did she get ahead of you anyway?” Truth wanted to know. “This is ridiculous.”
We looked at the line in front of us, and I agreed with a grunt.
“She wanted me to grab her a fuckin’ coffee,” I grumbled.
The man in front of me finally made it through the line, and I stepped up, my glare well and truly ferocious.
Ferocious enough to cause the man to worry.
“Place the contents of your pockets in here,” the man ordered.
I did, dropping everything I had in my pocket into the basket, and then placed my carry on through the scanner.
“If you’ll step through the detector.” The man gestured forward, his hand shaking like a leaf.
I grinned causing Truth to start chuckling behind me.
I did as directed, stepping through the metal detector and stopping on the other side to gather my belongings before turning to continue glaring at the man while Truth followed through behind me.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you singling her out,” I told the stupid man.
The man visibly jolted.
“I did no such thing.”
I snorted. “I saw your eyes on her the moment she walked up to your line. Trust me, I’m not stupid, nor am I very happy with your behavior.”
With that I left, but only managed to go about ten feet before turning and waiting for Imogen to return from the curtained off area that they sent her to.
The entire time the security officer kept looking over his shoulder at me, wondering if he needed to call superiors.
Though, I bet it was fear that I’d call him out on his unprofessional behavior to his supervisor that prevented him from making that call.
“They probably think you’re a terrorist.”
I snorted.
“I’m about as far from a terrorist as you could get.”
“You’re wearing your cut. You’re glaring. You’re holding your body aggressively. There’s nothing not intimidating about you,” he drawled.
Before I could answer or contradict his statement, Imogen finally threw open the curtain, her face a mask of annoyance.
“She looks pissed,” Truth teased.
She looked a little beyond pissed. In fact, I would classify her mood more as irate.
The woman following behind her said something to her back, and her spine stiffened.
The entire time she was walking toward me I could tell that she was extremely upset, and I wondered if it was very illegal to yell at a woman and threaten to kick her ass in a public airport.
She stomped up to me, stopped directly in front of me, and blew out a breath.
“Apparently, I’m not allowed to have my nail clippers since it has a nail file on it,” she said. “And, apparently, I’m not allowed to have any of my shampoo—which she poured out into the trash, by the way—because the bottles are too big. And to top it off, I’m pretty sure I had sex with her.”