Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
God, if only she didn’t feel like the most perfect glove around my cock…
“Where the hell is Chance with that scotch?” I glance toward the French doors leading into the house.
“Right here.” Chance comes out and sets the bottle and a lowball glass in front of me. “Help yourself.”
“Aren’t any of you going to join me?”
“Happy to,” Chance says. “After dinner.”
“For Christ’s sake.” I open the bottle, pour myself two fingers of the amber liquid, and take a taste, letting the warmth and smokiness settle over my tongue before it trickles down my throat.
I’m not a big drinker. Hell, drinking doesn’t solve anything. I set the glass on the table. “Sorry, Chance,” I mutter. “Sorry to all of you. I’m being an asshole.”
“When you’re right, you’re right.” Chance glances at my drink. “I know we’re billionaires and all—eventually, anyway—but my ma taught me never to waste anything.”
“I’ll drink it. But you’re right. It’s more of an after-dinner drink, especially after a hard day’s work.”
“You want another cold one?” Austin asks.
“No, but thanks. I’ll be fine. I always am.”
Austin opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Louisa opens the French doors.
“Looks like dinner’s on,” Chance says.
“Not quite yet,” Louisa says. “It’ll be another fifteen minutes. But there’s someone at the door to see Miles.”
I widen my eyes. “Who is it?”
“The detective from yesterday,” she says.
Fuck. Peterson.
“That man can’t leave us alone,” Chance mutters.
Could this day get any worse? I pick up the scotch. I’ll be needing it after all.
10
SADIE
* * *
Miles approaches, holding a cocktail. Looks like bourbon or scotch.
He rakes his gaze over me, stopping at the black skirt—the one I wore the night before.
He looks so good. I want to go to him, go up on my tiptoes and kiss him, feel the rasp of his late-day whiskers against my lips. He’s in jeans and a T-shirt, both dusty. His hair’s a mess and it looks like he spent a hard day working the ranch.
“Detective Hopkins.” His voice is deep and rumbly. “I thought it would be Peterson at the door.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because our housekeeper said the detective from yesterday wanted to see me. I just assumed…”
“If you think Mark Peterson will go anywhere on a Saturday evening that isn’t the pool hall, you don’t know him very well.”
“He came to your house this morning,” Miles reminds me.
“That was for me to do his work for him,” I mutter.
“I know him as well as I care to.” He looks away from me. “What do you want, Detective?”
I chew on my lower lip and inhale. His scent rushes into me—all woods and spice and man. “I’m so sorry, Miles. About this morning. I made a complete mess of everything.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, just as he did this morning. His biceps bulge, and I remember how solid every inch of him is. He meets my gaze.
“You’ll get no argument from me.”
I bite my lip. “How can I make this right?”
“Wearing that skirt’s a nice touch, but you fucked up, Sadie.”
I nod earnestly. “I know. I’m so pissed at myself. But you heard me. I leveled with Mark.”
“Eventually.”
“Yeah…eventually. I don’t have a billion dollars coming my way. I need my job.”
“Don’t toss the will in my face.”
“Fine, but I do need my job. You know it’s not a good thing for a detective to be in a relationship with a suspect. I know you’re not one. I told you that and you know I told Mark that. But he thinks you are and he’s my boss.”
I glance down at the glossy hardwood floor at my feet. “I don’t know what this is between us, but I like it. It’s…different. While I feel like I’ve known you forever, I haven’t. And you don’t know me.”
He’s quiet—too quiet—so I push on.
“Aren’t I entitled to one mistake? Are you going to tell me you’ve never fucked anything up?”
He still doesn’t reply.
Moments pass, and just as I’m about to give up, Chance Bridger walks toward us.
“Hey, Sadie. What are you doing here?”
“I just came to talk to Miles.”
“Update on the case? Serving a warrant?”
I shake my head. “No. Nothing like that.”
I don’t elaborate. It’s one thing for me to come clean with Mark when he caught me and Miles together. It’s another with Miles’s brother. I don’t know what Miles has shared about us and I don’t want to mess things up further.
“Well, dinner’s ready. You want to join us? Louisa makes enough to feed an army. We always have leftovers.”
I glance at Miles. His expression is noncommittal. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay and have Miles accept my apology.
“Uh…yeah, okay. That’d be nice.”
“Come on in. We eat in the kitchen.”
I’m not sure why Chance is being so nice. He wasn’t thrilled when Mark and I showed up yesterday morning. None of them let us in the house. While I wasn’t going to go snooping, they were right about Mark. He would have taken the opportunity to ferret out any kind of weakness or sign of guilt he found.