Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Nope. No way. He’s allowing his woman to only post happy couple pictures. He is obviously advertising how great his life is now that he’s moved on. Or how great he’s made her life now that he’s in it. It’s warfare, and we won’t stand for it. You’re about to blow up his feed, baby girl. Leave it to me. You’ll come out on top.”
I grimaced as I watched her walk off the porch with determination. What’ve I done?
“Miss Jessie.” Edgar, who’d been studying everyone like a drill sergeant, stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and looked up at me. His hands twisted around each other as he brought them up to his chest. He looked like some old vaudeville villain. “I don’t want to alarm you, but we are at fox-tango-eighteen.”
His grimace could make the unsuspecting faint with his large yellowed canines, the tips stained darker as though he’d just been feeding.
“Right. Of course.” I checked the time. We needed to get loaded up. “Shall I get everyone going?”
His sigh was cute. “Yes, please, Miss Jessie. Thank you. Thank you! Thank you—”
“Back in line,” I barked at him, both to give the moment a little occasion and to stop him from carrying on.
He scurried across the grass and I surveyed my crew.
Then sighed.
How in the hell was Nessa going to make this outfit look glamorous?
Austin
Austin stood on the edge of the grass, out of the way, surveying Jess’s crew. They stood in a haphazard line on the sidewalk outside of Ivy House, chatting and joking like a bunch of school kids waiting to go into class. Cyra stood at the head of the group, randomly swinging her arms.
Tristan waited about five feet away from Cyra, wearing a black button-up shirt and trendy jeans, not as dressed down as Jess and her crew usually went for. His hair, kept a little long, loosely curled around his ears with a stray curl draping down the side of his forehead. A five o’clock shadow covered his chin, and his shoes weren’t freshly polished to a high shine.
Usually he’d have his guardians waiting in a crisp line beside him, matching the discipline of Austin’s shifters. There were no shifters today, though, this situation totally and completely under Jess’s supervision, and the five guardians next to Tristan waited in a haphazard line.
He’d read the room.
The guy was clearly a chameleon. Austin had heard about his past, mostly that it was a potentially dangerous mystery. Tristan must’ve had to get good at fitting in so no one would question his origins. It served him incredibly well here.
Austin made his way to the head of the Ivy House line. “You missed the mark,” he said conversationally as he stopped beside Cyra.
“What?” Cyra stopped waving her arms and looked down at herself. “I’m wearing underwear this time! And socks!”
“I don’t think he was talking to you,” Hollace murmured.
“He couldn’t be. I even ironed! I am ready to play support system…even though I’m not exactly sure what that means.”
“It’s what they call going to a flower show,” Jasper grumbled, “when you’d rather have needles stuck under your fingernails.”
“They can both be arranged, if you’d like,” Edgar told him pleasantly, entirely serious. “We can do both at the same time if that would make you more comfortable?”
“Just go back to counting,” Jasper replied.
“Good idea. C minus one minute, everyone!” Edgar called. “I am so excited for you to see what I’ve done! You’re going to love it.”
“I never wear underwear,” Dave said, puffing up in pride. “I can pee anytime, anywhere.”
“We can all do that,” Ulric replied.
“How so?” Tristan asked Austin, correctly assuming that missing the mark comment had been for him. Austin was grateful for the distraction from the others’ conversation.
“Your dress code is too formal,” he said.
Tristan looked down at himself. “Turns out they don’t sell threadbare jeans in your shops. Surprising, since all the shifters seem to own a pair.” He was poking fun, something almost no one did with Austin, given his position. This gargoyle had balls. Austin liked that about him. “I usually dress to the nines when on a detail like this, so I figured this was a good middle ground instead of going for a sleeveless shirt or a lumberjack flannel.”
“I would’ve voted for the sleeveless shirt,” Nessa said as she sauntered by. “Ya got nice guns.”
“Find me later,” he replied. “I’ll strip down and show you what else I’ve got that you might like.”
“Fat chance, loser,” she quipped, flashing a smile as she passed Edgar and gave him a thumbs up. She stopped next to Sebastian, removed from the line on the grass.
Tristan maintained his smile, watching her.
“I don’t speak for Jess,” Austin said when Tristan’s focus returned to him, “but I doubt she’d care if you dressed more formally.”