Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
A thought occurred to me, and instead of questioning it, beating it to death from all angles, I just went with it.
I rolled my eyes. “What are you doing after this?” I asked on a whim.
He looked at his watch.
“I have to be somewhere by four fifteen this afternoon, but nothing until then. Why?”
I pulled at the hem of my shirt.
“Do you want to go look at apartments with me?”
His answering shrug was nonchalant.
“I guess. Do you mind if we ride my bike?” he asked.
I bit my lip thoughtfully.
Did I mind?
The answer was kind of scary.
No. No, I didn’t mind.
I wanted to ride on his bike. I’d been wanting to ride on it again for a very long time now. Longer than I cared to admit.
“That’s fine,” I tried to sound nonchalant.
And by the look he gave me, I’d failed.
“Want to help me bring this into the house?” he asked, gesturing to the boxes.
I looked at them.
“Are they heavy?”
He shrugged. “Not too bad.”
Twenty minutes later, I was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, staring at the hole in my shirt.
“This was one of my favorite shirts!” I informed him. “Do you know how hard it is to find worn, soft shirts?” I asked. “Really, really hard!”
He looked at my shirt, then at me.
Then, without pause, he shrugged his shirt off and handed it to me.
“Same size, it looks like. And it’s soft.” He shook it when I didn’t take it.
My hand came up on autopilot and grasped the soft material.
“Thank you,” I said, pulling it to me. “But what are you going to wear now?”
He winked at me and walked back into the house, coming back out moments later with one of his brother’s t-shirts.
“He won’t even notice,” he explained. “Are you going to go change, or wear that?”
I looked down at the t-shirt that still had a large gaping hole in it. “I’m going to go change really quick.”
That, and I wasn’t wearing a bra. My hair needed brushing, and I didn’t normally wear the yoga pants out, no matter how much I wanted to.
He gestured to the truck. “I’ll go lock up and wait for you.”
That was my cue to go, and after looking both ways, I crossed the street and power walked to the house. The door was still standing wide open, and I went inside. Without, I might add, closing or locking it.
Which was a huge accomplishment.
When I was home alone, doors got locked. Windows were checked to make sure they were locked as well. Blinds were pulled. The bathroom was locked when I was inside it. Clothes were set out on the bathroom counter.
Basically, if it had a way to be locked, I locked it. It didn’t matter how long I was going to be inside of it.
I left nothing to chance.
Nothing.
Not after what had happened to me.
I was super careful and always tried to pay attention to my surroundings.
So yes, leaving that door open was huge.
But I knew that with Tobias there, he’d make sure nothing happened.
And when I came out thirteen minutes later, it was to find Tobias leaning against the front porch beams. Not in the truck where he said he’d be waiting.
Always watching out for me, I thought.
“Ready!”
He grunted and pushed off the pillar, gesturing to his truck.
I started down the steps, but not before I locked the door and checked to make sure it was.
He watched me, not missing a thing.
“Ready when you are,” he rumbled.
***
“Not this one.” Tobias shook his head. “The outdoor lights don’t work. There are no security doors to ensure no one unauthorized gets in, and you don’t have an assigned parking space. That means anyone could park in front of your apartment, and you’d be stuck out there in the boonies walking across a dark fucking parking lot when you got off of work.”
“How do you know I even have a job?” I challenged.
He gave me a look.
“Tommy Tom’s in the MC with me. I knew the moment you were offered a job. Maybe even before you did,” he said.
My lips twitched.
“Hmmph,” I grumped. “Well, we’ve already looked at four complexes, and there’s only one left. If we don’t like that one, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
He looked at me, likely gauging whether I would take what he had to say next the right way. I saw the moment he decided ‘fuck it.’
“I have a guest house,” he offered.
I automatically started to shake my head.
“Negative,” I said. “I’m not moving into your place. I’m trying to get away from the crutch, not swap the crutch for the cane.”
He snorted, tossing me a sideways glance.
“The offer stands if you ever need it,” he promised. “Now let’s go look at this last place. I have roughly an hour and a half before I have to go.”