Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
He angled himself in the chair and watched as she unwrapped Eirian and changed her swiftly, occasionally stopping to blow raspberries on her belly. Never once did she say anything about it to make Kimberleigh feel bad, she simply did it.
“I’ll tell you what I know.” Kimberleigh’s voice wobbled but she didn’t retract her statement.
Chapter Eight
Nearly a month later
Violet reclined in the office chair and dropped two olives in her mouth. Across from her, Hastings polished off his burger like he’d been without food for a few days. She got it, their past few days had been balls-to-the-walls busy.
She’d woken early and did work at the center, then headed to the hospital to sit with Evan for a while then had taken baby Eirian so Kimberleigh could get some sleep. The single mother was struggling, that was obvious, but she gave her props, for how much she tried. Every single day.
Having barely seen this hunk of a man alone for the past three and a half weeks made this time with him, right now, all the more special. Even though their time had been sporadic at best, he never failed to make her realize he saw all of her.
Then again, perhaps it is how he speaks to me. How it’s like each of his words to me are designed to turn me on.
Mission accomplished.
Angling her head, she spied at him from below lowered lids. His eyes were closed as he ate. Worrying her bottom lip, she exhaled slowly as she observed him. Most of his thick dark chocolatey-with-streaks-of-reddish-rust hair had been gathered back with a simple black tie, but a few strands had escaped and fallen forward. His close-cropped beard begged her fingers to stroke and push through it.
She flexed her leg muscles at the knowledge of how his facial hair would scratch her sensitive inner thighs when he buried his head between her legs. A whimper escaped and his head snapped up, those graphite eyes locking on her like a heat-seeking missile.
Without dropping her gaze, he pushed the few sprouts that had been on his burger in the corner of his mouth. “Something you need, Curls?” He skimmed her. “Or something you want?”
Shit, she was in trouble. No matter how she lied to herself about not doing military men, she’d roll over and give it up for this one. Anytime he asked. Hell, he wouldn’t even have to ask. Snap and point.
She was in.
Sitting up, she stretched as her hiking boots hit the floor with a thud. She ignored the squeak of the chair beneath her as she inched it closer to the battered metal desk. Her veggie tray had been demolished for the most part, the ranch dressing gone and only a few pieces of broccoli and celery left. She’d just polished off the olives.
“Yeah,” she said, acknowledging how low and needy her voice was. “There is.”
Hastings swallowed the bite in his mouth, swallowed and sat upright, eyes never leaving her. He balled up the paper from his burger and dropped it in the trash can on the side of the desk.
She gulped as he took a long sip from the paper cup holding his drink and placed the tall container back by his foot.
“What’s that?”
“I want to get to the bottom of this, finish the opening without any more drama and get on my way.”
God, the lies she spouted.
He knew it. She didn’t have to wonder if he saw through her explanation. However, Hastings didn’t call her on it. Instead, he nodded and bent to lift his drink once more. After he’d set it on the desk, he slid his chair closer and sat, the bang of his knees as he reclaimed his seat jarring her focus from staring at the hard planes of his torso.
“Let’s go over it then.” He reached for a napkin and wiped his mouth. “Give it to me.”
God, she wanted to.
So she did. Went over the news they’d learned from Kimberleigh and from some of the other homeless she’d, correction, they’d spoken to over the past weeks.
“All signs point to a pimp, in my opinion.” She reached for a piece of celery and swiped it through the container, hoping for any tiny bit left.
“When the dead man threatened her, she went to Evan and he went to confront him.”
Violet nodded and crunched the celery, chewing thoughtfully. She wasn’t going to touch how he’d called the man who’d hurt Evan dead, that wasn’t her concern.
“Then something happened, like he had more than one guy there because one man wasn’t going to take Evan down. No fucking way.” Hastings’ tone grew harsh.
“How sure are you he wasn’t doing drugs?” Violet didn’t want to ask, but she had to.
“I’m positive, Violet. Like I said before, his mom died of an overdose and he vowed never to touch them. We’d seen some shit while deployed and regardless that he may have done a lot of things that haunt him, drugs weren’t ever an option for forgetting. Not for him, and not for me.”