Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
He looks like he’s about to commit murder as he takes the egg and literally launches it across the kitchen at me. I squeal as I leap to the side, my plate flying off the counter to smash on the ground as I dodge the egg soaring through the sky at me. It lands with a smash on the ground, and I stare in horror at Beckett. “That was my breakfast!”
“Now we both fuckin’ starve.”
Oh.
It.
Is.
On.
“You’ll pay for that,” I snap, crossing my arms.
He walks over, leaning in close. “I can’t fuckin’ wait.”
Then, he’s off, walking outside with a cigarette in his hand. I’ve seen Beckett smoke a handful of times, mostly when he’s pissed off, which clearly right now he is.
His phone rings from the counter, with that all too familiar ringtone. Oh, Becky. I think it’s time we meet.
I walk over and pick it up, seeing her name flash across the screen. I answer it with a breathy, “Hello, Beckett’s phone?”
“Oh,” her voice comes across the speaker, shocked but so damned pretty it’s annoying. “Oh, I must have ... wait ... who is this?”
“Who is this?” I question, acting as if I’m the one who is shocked and confused.
“It’s ... I’m ... I’m Beckett’s friend, I was just giving him a call. Is he there?”
“Oh, how nice. I have never heard about you. I’m Poppy, also his ‘air quote’ friend.”
She goes silent. “You’re seeing him?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it that.”
“Right, is he there?”
“He’s outside, smoking.”
“Smoking?” she asks, a little baffled.
“Yes, smoking. Terrible habit if you ask me, those nice teeth of his won’t be nice for long if you know what I’m saying?”
“Right, yes, can you go and get him for me?”
“Of course, yes. One minute,” I put the phone to my chest and cry out, “Beckett, honey, Becky is on the phone.”
When Beckett walks into the warehouse, his face is so wild with rage, I place the phone down and scurry away because I’m actually certain if he could reach me, he’d throw me. He picks up the phone and turns, walking back outside. I run over to the window and peer out.
He’s pacing the small patio off the front of the warehouse, talking very intensely to Becky who I’m certain has many, many questions.
“She’s nothin’, babe,” I hear him say. “She’s bein’ held for the club, and I have to watch her, she’s a fuckin’ pain in the ass and goes out of her way to stir shit. Trust me.”
Aw, poor Becky.
“I promise you,” he says low.
He talks so nicely to her.
Kind of hurts, if I’m being honest.
If he told her what happened, I’m certain she would have a different opinion. He cheated on her, which I guess isn’t really a thing because how can you cheat on someone who is married and cheating on their spouse. I wish we were closer, just a touch, so he could tell me how he ended up with Becky, but he hates me and that’s never going to happen.
He finishes his phone call and I rush over to the money making station and act like I’m working. He walks over and takes my arm, spinning me around. “Mess with me, you do not mess with her.”
Wow, he really does like this one.
“You know,” I snap, pulling my arm from his grips. “For someone who is so in love with her, you sure had no problem sticking your dick in me.”
His eyes flash.
“Also, it was unprotected. Ever think of that?”
I turn and walk off.
Shit.
Saying that out loud reminded me that it was unprotected.
And I’m unprotected.
God dammit.
13
Something wakes me from my sleep, a gentle tickle against my legs. I blink a few times, trying to get myself to wake up enough to figure out what’s happening. I move my leg and my blanket moves along with it, causing whatever just touched me to ... squeak.
I scream.
I launch myself out of bed so fast I get tangled in the sheets and fall, slamming my head against the ground as I fall. Pain shoots through my ribs, but I’m not staying down here long enough for the rat and its family to find me. I push to my feet and go running into the living room, launching myself onto the sofa and right into Beckett’s lap. He has just sat up, clearly having heard me scream.
“What the?” he murmurs, sleepily. “What’s wrong?”
“They’re ... they’re in there.”
“Who?” he barks, arm going around my waist as he suddenly goes on high alert.
“Ratticus,” I whisper hiss. “And his family.”
“Who the fuck is Ratticus?”
“The rats!”
Beckett goes silent, and then, out of nowhere, he bursts out laughing. It’s a sound I haven’t ever heard leave his mouth, but oh, it’s deep and gorgeous and I want to sit here and listen to it all night.
“Why are you laughing?” I cry, still on his lap.