Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
“Looks good!” I smile up at Banks as he places a couple of plates on the table, his cheeks flushed from the kitchen heat and what I can only assume is determination to impress.
“You have no idea,” he boasts, lifting a fruit skewer and striking a playful pose. I catch Romi’s mischievous expression from across the table, and we share a grin. It’s a silent acknowledgment of how completely ridiculous and adorable Banks can be.
While we eat, Banks heads inside to finish up some paperwork. At least, that’s the excuse he uses. I’m pretty sure he’s just trying to give us some privacy.
“So,” Romi says, glancing my way with the nosy sister about to pry gleam in her eye. “How are things going with Banks?”
I pause, biting into my sandwich, feeling my cheeks heat up. “He’s been really great,” I admit, not wanting to sound too mushy but unable to downplay the genuine connection growing between us. “He really takes care of me. Even when I don’t ask.”
“That’s good,” she replies, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assesses my reaction. “Does he make you feel safe?”
The question hits harder than I expected. “Yeah, he does.” I lean back a bit, surprised by my own honesty. “And he’s growing on me.”
“Like a fungus,” my sister interjects, and I can’t help but laugh at the silly expression on her face.
When Romi leans in, her tone shifts to something more serious as the lightheartedness fades away. “Sullivan had Sinclair check him out.” I should’ve expected this from my brother-in-law and his brother who happens to be the Midnight Falls Sheriff.
“I can’t believe this.” My heart drops as I glare at her. I’ve never been one to let someone else fight my battles, and I’m not about to start now.
“Relax,” she continues, attempting to keep it light, but I can't help the rush of exasperation bubbling up inside me. “They just wanted to make sure you’re safe with him. They found out he’s from a wealthy family here, but he doesn’t flaunt his money. Banks is pretty well-respected around town, and Sullivan feels much better.”
I can practically feel my blood boiling now. “I’m a freaking attorney. I can take care of myself,” I insist.
“They’re just looking out for you after everything that’s happened with Richard,” Romi pushes back, frustration creeping into her voice.
“I repeat. I can take care of myself,” I shoot back. Richard is a name I’d rather forget—his shadow looms like a storm cloud ready to spoil everything good.
“I’m just saying they want to protect you,” Romi argues with a hint of desperate sincerity. “We’re all worried about you, and my husband tends to go a little overboard protecting me and therefore you, too.”
“A little overboard?” I snort, rolling my eyes. “Talk about an understatement.”
“He’s a caveman but he’s all mine.” Romi wiggles her eyebrows, and I can’t hold in the laughter bubbling up my throat at the silly look on her face.
“Please try to control your husband.” I’m not entirely teasing. “I know he means well, but I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. This background check on Banks makes me feel like I’m some fragile little thing who needs constant supervision. I’m not an idiot and I’ve dealt with toxic people before. Believe me, I can recognize a good guy when I see one.”
Romi sighs, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Okay, I’ll talk to Sinclair. But you know how he is—”
“Yeah, overprotective and annoying,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Just give him a little extra nookie tonight, and he’ll be too tired to interfere in my life.”
“I give him plenty of nookie, and he still has time to be the biggest caveman pain in the rear.”
Banks walks in from the kitchen, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. "Hey, I just had a chat with Ashton,” he says, his voice steady but laced with tension. The mood shifts instantly when I see his face, and I brace myself, knowing that whatever comes next is probably not good.
“What’s up?” I ask as the air thickens with anticipation.
“They’ve let Richard out on bail,” he explains, frustration weaving tightly through his words. “He has to go back to Houston, and he’s been fitted with an ankle monitor.”
“That’s it?” I echo, my stomach dropping at the mention of Richard. The stupid name sends a familiar wave of anxiety through me, the reckless memories of harassment clinging like unwanted residue.
“Yeah, but the sheriff’s going to have someone monitoring him twenty-four hours a day to make sure he doesn’t come back here.” He clenches his jaw, and I can see the anger brewing just beneath the surface. When he steps closer, I lean against his strong body. “I don’t know what the fuck the judge was thinking,” he says. “But I’m not taking any chances with you. Not with him being free.”