Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Before I can reply, Daisy whimpers behind me, and I’m off his lap in a flash to take care of her, grabbing the puke bowl on the way.
And it’s a good thing because round two is underway, and Daisy gets sick again.
Brady walks into the kitchen and wets the cloth, then returns to wipe it over Daisy’s face.
“Can you sip on some juice?” I ask her. Daisy frowns, but when I put the straw against her lips, she takes a few tiny sips for me. “Good girl. I’m sorry, baby. Should we put you to bed for a while?”
“Rock,” she says, already closing her eyes again. “I just want to rock.”
“I can do it,” Brady offers, but I shake my head and lift her, muscle my way to the chair, and sit with her.
“I’ll take this shift,” I reply, settling her against me the way I’ve done since she was a baby.
Brady takes the bowl to the kitchen and cleans it out, not seeming to be bothered by it at all, and then returns with it and sets it next to me, in case there’s a round three.
“What else do you need?” he asks softly.
“I think we’re good here. You can head out if you want. I have a feeling that it’s going to be a long night.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Brady sits on the couch and kicks his sock-clad feet onto the coffee table, crosses his arms over his chest, and watches me for a while. “Why do you have nightmares, Abbi?”
My throat closes, and images too horrible to talk about run through my mind. I kiss Daisy’s head and level Brady with a stare.
“I’m not going to tell you that.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I can’t,” I add softly. “It’ll put me in a bad place if I do, and I need to keep it together for Daisy.”
“Are you okay?”
I nod slowly. “Yes. I’m okay.”
“Are you safe?”
My eyes narrow at that. I am now. “As safe as I’ve ever been.”
“And if you’re not okay or safe, you’ll tell me?”
No. No, I wouldn’t tell him. I would simply disappear again. And this is the first time I lie to Brady Wild.
“Yes. I’d tell you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
BRADY
My phone is vibrating in my pocket, waking me. I open my eyes and frown, then check the time.
It’s not even seven.
Which means that Abbi and I got about two hours of sleep.
My phone stops vibrating, and I sit here in the chair, watching the woman I can’t seem to get enough of and Daisy curled up together on the couch where they landed after the last round of violent vomiting from the poor little girl. How she had that much in her to throw up, I’ll never know. They’re sleeping peacefully, and after last night, I have a whole new respect for Abbi. How she manages to do this on her own, day after day, is beyond me. The two of us pitched in throughout the night, and it was still exhausting.
My phone vibrates again, so I pull it out and check it.
I’ve missed two calls from my agent, and Rem just texted.
Rem: Let’s meet for coffee at Millie’s. I’m headed there now.
I sigh and run my hand down my face. I do need coffee, and it looks like the girls are going to sleep for a while anyway. So, I stand and push my feet into my boots, grab my jacket, and then return to the couch, where I gently kiss them each on the head.
Abbi’s eyes crack open, and I shake my head at her.
“Sleep,” I whisper before kissing her again. I can’t keep my lips off of this woman. “I have to go, but I’ll call you later. Just get some rest.”
“Thank you,” she whispers in return and then falls back to sleep, and I turn to the door. I push the button on the keypad that locks it behind me and then head for the 4Runner, but before I start it and leave, I return Sandy, my agent’s, call.
“Wild,” she says with a happy smile in her voice.
“Sandy, why are you calling me before the sun is up on a Saturday?”
“The sun is up in New York,” she counters, “and you know that I don’t take days off. Honey, I’ve got some big news. Huge.”
“Okay, what’s going on?”
“Sponsorships are starting to pour in for the coming season. You have three offers, and none of them want a non-compete, so we can sign with all three if you want to.”
She outlines the terms for a popular cowboy boot company, a hat manufacturer, and a denim company. I wear all of them on a regular basis. And all of them want to pay me well into the seven figures. Jesus.
“They all want me?”
“That’s right. You’re hot stuff, you know. All the cowboys want to be you. Of course, you’ll need to travel to LA for photo shoots—”