Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
“I think there might be a problem with his voice too,” she whispered to Jameson. “He’s always barking. Like a dog. Or growling. Like a bear. Ooh, maybe he’s a shapeshifter.” She stared at Ian like she thought that was an actual possibility.
Ian groaned, rubbing his hand over his face.
Jack reached over to pat his back.
“Sweetheart, you might want to ease up before you give Ian a stroke,” Jameson warned.
“Oh dear, I guess that is a possibility at his age.” She chewed her lip adorably.
Trouble. Pure trouble.
“I’ll try to be nicer.” Leaning over, she patted Ian’s arm. “Why don’t you sit down? Take a load off. Let me make you a cup of tea.” She tried to stand, but both he and Ian reached for her, holding her to the chair.
“Stay seated. You’re bleeding,” Ian barked.
She gave Jameson a ‘see what I mean?’ look. He had to bite back a smile.
Lord. She was running rings around Ian. The poor guy looked like he was about to blow.
“And I’m not bleeding. All I need is a Band-Aid.”
Jameson picked up her foot and noted that there was now a streak of blood running down it. “Ahh, Shortcake, this will need more than just a Band-Aid.”
Hell’s bells. Had he called her that?
Her eyes were wide and her mouth had parted.
Fuck. What was he thinking?
But there was just something about the way she stared at him that made him feel good.
Like he was special.
Which you’re not. Asshole.
“Why does everyone keep calling me short?” she asked. “I’m not little.”
Ian snorted. “You’re tiny. You barely even reach the middle of my chest.”
“Maybe I’m not tiny. Perhaps you’re just a giant. It’s all about perspective.”
Jameson placed a soft pad on the cut on her foot, then wrapped a bandage around it.
“And I might be short, but I have muscle.”
“Show us these muscles,” Jack requested.
She went to push up the sweatshirt sleeve for her right arm, then paused. Instead, she pushed back her left sleeve. Then she lifted her arm, flexing. “See? Look at my guns.”
“Guns?” Ian asked. “Water guns, you mean.”
“Rude,” she muttered, dropping her arm.
Was she left-handed?
“You’ll lose all of those impressive muscles if you don’t start eating,” Jameson told her.
She wrinkled her nose as she stared at the omelet.
“You don’t like omelets?” Jameson asked. “Do you want something else?” He’d finished wrapping her foot, but he couldn’t seem to let go of her.
“She should eat what she’s given,” Ian muttered.
Jameson turned to frown at him. They’d had this talk many times. Sometimes, the grumpy bastard needed to think before he spoke.
Ian sighed at the look and nodded.
“I’m not going to ask what he said,” Maggie said with a yawn. “Words muttered are best left unheard. I’m putting that on a T-shirt.”
“Okay,” Jameson said, even though he had no idea what she was talking about.
But she looked dead on her feet and was pushing her food around with her fork.
Which she held in her right hand. Odd.
“You need to eat, sweetheart. Then get to bed.”
She just smiled at him and continued to push her food around. Obviously, she thought that had been a suggestion.
You need to be firmer with her.
Tell her she’s going to get her ass spanked if she doesn’t start eating.
Or pick up the fork and feed her yourself.
He ignored the urges and stood. “I need to go home.”
“How is her foot? What does she need to do to take care of it?” Ian barked.
Jack just watched him silently, assessing. That bastard saw much more than he let on.
“Foot wounds heal quickly,” he said in a terse voice. “Stay off it as much as possible tomorrow. Call me if it keeps bleeding or becomes infected.”
“Thanks so much for coming,” Maggie told him, staring up at him adoringly. “Will I see you again?”
“Unlikely.”
Her face fell and he felt like the biggest prick on the planet. Ian elbowed him in the back. That had definitely been on purpose. Turning, he frowned at the other man.
“I’ll walk you out,” she said quietly.
“No,” he said at the same time as Ian barked out an order for her to stay put.
She stared between them both as Jack shoved them out of the way and took his spot in Jameson’s chair.
Jameson had to fight the urge to shove him away and sit back down. Especially when Jack plucked the fork from her fingers.
“Do you need me to feed you? I can make noises, if you like.” Jack winked at her.
“Noises?” she asked.
“Hmm. What do you like? The rollercoaster?” Jack put some egg on the fork and then moved it up and down as though he was riding a rollercoaster. Then he screamed, making her jump.
“What was that?” she cried.
“That’s what people do on a rollercoaster, right? They scream. Now, open wide, it’s coming into the tunnel.”
She just stared at Jack.
“What?” he asked.