Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
He does. Silently. He complies like everything is hunky fucking dory. He switches off the lights and gets into bed as neatly and silently as he can while I flop back against the pillows. Then, we both lie there like that. He seems fine on his back. I don’t want to break first and look at him. It would be a kind of surrender, and that is not happening. He obviously doesn’t let things get to him. This argument probably didn’t mean a thing, and he likely can’t even understand why I’m angry or why I’m feeling any other emotion since he’s a freaking stone. Rock hard on the outside, rock hard on the inside.
Whomp! Rattle, rattle, bang!
We both shoot upright in bed at the same time. Beau is fast. While I immediately reach for my pillow to try and grasp—everyone knows that in an emergency involving night horrors, a pillow and a bed will clearly provide the best protection—Beau leaps out of bed and goes racing down the stairs. I hear his bare feet thumping and then flying. I dive under the blankets, shivering and shaking until approximately five million years, I mean a few minutes, have passed, and I hear him coming back upstairs. He doesn’t flick on the lights. He stands at the end of the bed, outlined in sexy moonlight shadows from the window like he planned for them to do him all the favors and make me steam up in the few places that even had some steam left.
“It was just a raccoon trying to get the lid off the trashcan. I scared it away.”
“What? You didn’t grab it and sit it down and have a long conversation with it about why trashcans aren’t a thing in this yard and then slap a contract on its ass?”
“Not at all. Those things are rabid, and to boot, they can’t read.”
The worst part? I’m not even sure if he’s deadpanning or serious. His eyes are a little shiny like he’s amused with himself, but it could just be the light from the yard and the moonlight doing him more favors.
“They’re not all rabid,” I say with a sniff. At least I know the wildlife out here better than he does. Beau is a city boy. He probably can’t survive five minutes in the country if he has to.
Really? He’s been here all week, surviving like a total boss.
As he climbs back into bed, I make myself comfortable on my back again. I don’t look at him. And he doesn’t look at me either. The room is so silent, and it’s honestly the most uncomfortable thing in the world.
Rattle, bump.
“What the hell was that?” I shoot straight up again.
And again, Beau goes racing back down the stairs.
He’s back in under one million years, or just a few minutes, again. This time, I manage not to grab my pillow. I just sit there in bed, gulping air.
“It was just one of the barn cats scratching at the door. The one that looks like it’s ready to slay in a cat battle. She ran off as soon as I appeared. I wasn’t the one she was hoping for.”
“Oh. Mama sometimes does that.” I will not laugh at the image that’s placed in my head. “Sometimes she wants in for a two-minute cuddle or more of those tube cat treats.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“It’s not the middle of the night, but no, she doesn’t care what time of day it is. Cats are cats. You’re on their schedule. You’d know that if you ever had one. You’re owned by the cat, not the other way around.”
He sighs, walks over, and turns on the lights like we’re going to have a discussion about cats. I don’t want to have a discussion with him. I want to get away from him, and from the way his eyes are all dark and suddenly soft and sort of smoldering hot, and his whole entire face and body look extra kissable and lickable and jumpable.
“I should probably go down and see if she comes back. She needs her pets,” I say.
“I think you should just go to sleep.”
“I’m not sure why you turned on the lights if you want me to do—oh my god! Your pump!” It’s not in his arm. The round plastic circle is gone. I should have done more research about how those things work, but I’m pretty sure they need to be there to work. Maybe he had more of a fight with the raccoon than he let on, and it stole it and ran off with the super expensive, life-saving piece of equipment. “Shit! Jesus!” I need to think fast. Stay calm. Not panic. He’s going to be fine. Uh, he will, right? I scramble out of bed so fast that I just about land on my face. I correct myself with two hands on the nightstand and a swift spin that puts me somewhat upright. “I’m going to call an ambulance!”