Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Bewilderment bursting through my expression precedes me arguing, “She’s definitely the G.O.A.T.”
“She’s not a fucking farm animal! What the fuck is a matter with you?”
“Calm down, grandpa,” Bunny warmly snickers. “He means G.O.A.T. as in greatest of all time. Not the adorable little creature he shares a name with.” Two hands swiftly fly into the air. “Ohmygod, can we have baby goats?!”
“No,” the two of us instantly refuse in tandem.
Her jaw dramatically falls to the shop floor sparking chuckles from us. “But we have room for them!”
“You,” I gently tug her to me, “are the only ‘baby’ we need around here.” After a chaste kiss to her lips, I suggest, “How about you turn around and take my new toy for a spin?”
“Your cock is so not a new toy.” The juvenile joke is quickly followed by another teasing remark, “Ohhhh…you meant the car.” Bunny giggles. Winks. Spins around so her back is to my front and teasingly wiggles. “Show me how to drive, Kid.”
“She needs lessons on the road too,” our boyfriend cheekily adds before leaning away to avoid the light tap to the dick she attempts. “Hey! Hands at ten and two, Rabbit.”
“It’s actually nine and three,” I correct at the same time I position our girlfriend’s hands on the controller.
“Says who?!?”
“The NHTSA.”
He throws a confused hand up into the air prompting me to laugh again.
“The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration.”
“The…what…the…fuck…what?” Nolan’s grumbles of irritation are thankfully interrupted by the ringing of his cell, which he doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Nolan.”
With one arm tangled comfortably around Bunny, I use the other to repeatedly intervene her smashing the poor little all-terrain vehicle into every surface that crosses her path. Each time she collides into something unintentionally, her entire body jumps.
Twitches.
Her nose scrunches and a hiss is sucked in.
Not smiling over her antics is a lot like not grinning whenever she turns me into a human doodle.
Impossible.
“Got it,” is attached to our boyfriend ending the call shortly after he took it. “It’s official.”
Our attention immediately shifts to him.
“Miss B. Ripley has a clinic appointment for a full body scan and physical with Dr. Valerie Garcia for four o’clock this Friday.” Nolan nonchalantly tucks his device into his pocket and sighs, “Looks like it’s time to go disguise shoppin’.”
Chapter 11
Bunny
“I hate rental cars,” grouses The Kid from the backseat.
“You hate rental cars? Or…” my face curls around the edge of the headrest to flash him a sassy smirk, “you hate this rental car because it’s in Garcia’s name?”
“It can be both.”
“But is it?”
His bright blue gaze instantly narrows. “I hate the way they smell.”
“Clean?”
“Stale.”
I resume facing forward on a small giggle as Nolan exits the highway.
“With the worst fuckin’ scents.” More grunts of unhappiness are expelled. “Fresh leather air fresheners are so fucking stupid.” He huffs again. “And lazy.” Additional fidgeting is heard. “And an insult to a person’s senses.”
“You love the smell of fresh leather, Kid,” Mutt effortlessly argues.
“Yeah, from actual leather.”
“Which this car has,” I casually point out.
“But isn’t producing that godawful stench!”
There’s no time to fight back.
“I know the difference!” He squeaks, warranting another look over my shoulder. “Just like I know the difference between owned cars and rental cars. Rental cars have no soul.” Kipp tries to pull on his locked seatbelt. “And this one is no exception just ‘cause our attorney rented it for us.” An almost smug smile slips into place. “You know they say lawyers are soulless too.”
Nolan shoots him an unamused glare in the rearview mirror. “Garcia has a fuckin’ soul, Kid. Why else do you think he’d go to lengths this extreme to help protect Rabbit?”
“He’s paid to.”
“Not for the strings he’s been pullin’.”
At that, The Kid shifts his head to look out the window and flicks his bright orange sunglasses downward to cover his eyes.
He’s been super fucking moody all week.
Now, I don’t know if it’s because he’s on edge about what we may find out at the doctor today or having me “exposed” in unfamiliar territory or perhaps it’s just the fact that Nolan’s back to missing for long stretches of the night for tow work leaving Kipp left to worry that something horrible is going to happen while he’s gone.
It could be any of those things.
It could be none.
It could be one or two plus something else.
I have no clue.
For the first time since I moved in, he’s holding back.
I don’t know what.
And I don’t know why.
And I don’t like it.
It’s almost like having a sick puppy that you know is sick but can’t tell you what’s wrong.
Or in this case won’t.
Maybe the dark and vile shit we’ve done is simply catching up to him.
Maybe it’s eating him alive.
Maybe he’s starting to regret how far we’ve gone.
How far he’s willing to go.
Maybe he’s regretting his relationship with me.
Us.
As if my thoughts are being plastered across my face, Nolan places a soft palm on my inner thigh and delivers a gentle pat, wordlessly telling me to relax.