Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
"I'm not your dad, princess. I'm not any of them," I murmur quietly. "One day soon, you're going to figure that out. Until then…" I brush my thumb along her bottom lip and smile at her before stepping away from her console. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
"What? Tomorrow night?" she practically squeaks. "What do you mean you'll see me tomorrow night?"
"It's me and you tomorrow night, princess." I pause at the door, glancing over my shoulder at her. The look of horror on her face is absolutely fucking worth it. "Matter of fact, it's me and you all week. By the way, you're right about the break-ins. Good catch."
The tiny smile she gives me is even better than that look of horror.
Christ, I can't wait until she's mine.
Chapter Three
Molly
"Dammit," I mutter, scowling at the map. The tracker marking the location of Easton's patrol vehicle isn't working. It last picked up a signal from him ten minutes ago, when he was at the coffee shop a few blocks over. It's the only break he's gotten tonight.
As soon as we checked on shift, he had a single vehicle accident to work, followed by another break-in, and then Ruby Masters called, demanding someone come talk to her grandson about sneaking out.
Red didn't particularly like the thought of having Easton come talk to him, so he bolted into the woods. Easton had to spend an hour hunting the kid down with the Fire Department. It's already after three in the morning. I know he has to be exhausted because I am, and all I've done is sit in this chair, answer calls, and boss him around all night.
I don't know why the man won't take a hint and leave me alone, but it's honestly getting ridiculous. I've spent the last month torturing him with every ridiculous call that comes through dispatch.
If there's a cat in a tree, an escaped farm animal, a gas drive-off, or anything remotely irritating enough to ruin his day, I've sent it to him. And he just takes it without a single complaint.
It's driving me nuts!
He's determined to wear me down, and I hate that it's working. I've only seen him for a few minutes at a time over the last month. But every single time, he tells me that he isn't the guy I think he is. I really don't want to believe him…but the foundation of my belief is slowly eroding beneath my feet.
It's hard to stay annoyed at a man who is utterly shameless in his pursuit. It's also hard to continue believing the worst about one who seems determined to prove you wrong. He hasn't dated anyone since he started. He hasn't been seen out with anyone. I know because I asked around. Either he's a lot better at hiding it than I thought, or he's telling the truth. I'm not sure which it is and that worries me.
My dad was good at hiding his mistresses too…at least at first. Eventually, he stopped trying. I don't know why my mom kept putting up with it when it broke her heart every time. I never figured that out. By the time I was old enough to ask, she was dead, taking any answers with her.
But, frankly, I don't want to be one in a long line for anyone. I'm not asking for a virgin. I'm twenty-three. Easton is in his early thirties. The odds of a man his age holding a V-Card in this day and age is unlikely. And let's be honest, I'm not clinging to mine out of some sense of nobility or some belief that I'm only worthy of marriage if I'm a nice, proper virgin. Women bring more than just a V-Card and sex to the table. I have mine simply because I don't date.
Dating requires trust. And trust is something I've never found easy. When I fall, I want to know that I'm safe. That I can trust my heart with the man I've chosen. That he isn't just like my father. So far…I haven't met that man. So why entertain something I know isn't going anywhere? It seems counterproductive when my other goals have always been just as important.
It's hard to feel like you're missing something when you've never had it.
But Easton…well, he's becoming a problem.
I don't want to soften toward him. I don't want to like him. And I really don't want my heart to leap into my throat every time I hear his voice on the radio or see him walk through the doors. And yet…that's precisely what's happening. It's maddening!
"Dispatch to Unit 232." I release the foot pedal and wait for him to respond.
"Unit 232, go ahead," he says, his voice sending a pleasurable chill through me. Why can't he sound like Barney Fife on the radio at least? That'd make me feel better about this whole thing. Instead, he sounds like he should be reading dirty romance novels.