Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Where are you going?” I called when he turned to go toward the door.
“I’ll crash downstairs,” he said, voice low.
“No. I’m not kicking you out of your room,” I said. “I won’t make you watch any more cheesy fall romances,” I added, watching as he turned back with a smirk. “Unless you like them,” I added, seeing his lips twitch. “You totally like them,” I said, smile spreading as I watched him.
“There’s… a certain small-town charm to them,” he decided with a shrug. “And if they might inspire you to bake some more shit…” he added, coming back to the bed to grab the remote, turning it back to my channel, then getting in beside me.
We didn’t talk about it.
Any of it.
We just watched a movie with a bit of a caper—Who spiked the pumpkin spice coffee at the Harvest Festival?!—then drifted off to sleep.
This time when I woke up, Detroit was turned away from me, and I was cuddled into his warmth, doing an imitation of spooning, but my much smaller body made a really poor big spoon.
His body was still, so I let myself enjoy the closeness and warmth for an embarrassingly long time before I finally turned away, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t disappointed that I didn’t wake up on top of him again.
Eventually, the sounds of the house had both of us climbing off of each side of the bed, and getting our days started.
All the while, I had a sudden craving for a pumpkin spice latte. And the feel of Detroit’s weight on me in bed.
CHAPTER NINE
Detroit
The bell rang, ushering in a man who would ruin any chances of picking up a stubborn-ass Everleigh from her bed, and depositing her in mine, so I could feel her cuddling up against me in her sleep.
The damned HVAC guy.
Ready to fix the vents in her room, so she would be toasty warm without me to snuggle into.
I didn’t have a lot of time to be pissed off about that, though, because not ten minutes later, there was another ring of the bell.
“Who the hell could that be?” Slash asked, brows pinched, as I walked toward the door.
We didn’t exactly have a lot of visitors. The clubhouse was pretty far out of the main area of town, so we didn’t get solicitors or shit like that. Plus, you know, the whole outlaw biker thing.
When I pulled open the door, the man standing there looked out of place as hell standing there.
Simon Evertz.
In a three-thousand-dollar blue suit.
With a watch that was likely double that.
I glanced back toward the kitchen where Everleigh’s face completely fell at the sight of him. And the reminder of how fucked up her life had become.
“Simon,” I said, brows furrowing. “Were we expecting you?” I asked, though I knew there’d been no contact.
“You should be until we get this mess sorted out,” he said, moving past me and inside without being invited. “This is nicer than you’d expect,” he decided as Cat did a long stretch before jumping off the couch, and all but slamming his body against Simon’s pant leg.
For a second, Everleigh’s gaze narrowed at the cat. Who she’d been trying to woo with treats and tuna fish. To no avail. And here was this stranger who completely ignored his existence, and he was rubbing all over him.
“You look better than the last time I saw you,” Simon said as he approached the dining room table, putting his briefcase down on it, then pressing his thumb into the scanner to unlock it. “Let’s get to work.”
“To work,” Everleigh repeated. “On what?” she asked, not moving a step closer.
“Your case, Everleigh,” Simon said, sounding frustrated already. Like he wasn’t getting paid an insane amount of money for this visit.
“Oh, uh, okay. But… but how are we working on it?” she asked. “I thought this would, you know, be a court thing.”
“We are trying to avoid court,” Simon said. “Unless you want to be judged by a jury of your peers. And let me tell you, from experience, you don’t want to put your life in the hands of the general public. But, hey, your choice,” he said, and I didn’t like his tone.
“Easy,” I hissed as I walked past, giving him a hard look that had his brows raising, but he didn’t seem intimidated.
I guess when you worked for all of the West Coast’s most notorious, hardened criminals, you didn’t startle easily.
“No, ah, of course I don’t want to go to court. I just don’t know how that is avoidable,” she said. “I really don’t know anything about this,” she said.
“No,” Simon said with a sigh. “You don’t come off as a true crime or cop drama kind of woman,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess I’m gonna have to walk you through this.”