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)
“As Assistant Chief, I have a lot more flexibility in my job,” I explain my pressing job duties. “I can do the monthly budget and schedule from home.”
Sullivan chuckles a bit at that and steps in to help my cause. Staring down at his wife, he asks, “Besides, do you really want her having to deal with Ms. Viola right now?” Fuck. I owe him big fucking time.
That gets a laugh from both Romi and Yvette. Ms. Viola, Yvette’s landlady, is a legend in Midnight Falls, the small Texas town a few miles away that celebrates Halloween year-round.
Ms. Viola’s got more energy than the Energizer Bunny wrapped in fireworks. And more questions than a kindergartener who just ate too much sugar—fine for an average day, but no way am I letting Yvette face that just out of the hospital.
Finally, the trio collectively concedes, and Yvette throws me a look that's somewhere between appreciation and relief. Romi and Sullivan run over to Yvette’s place to pack her a bag and bring it back to the hospital.
Romi jokes that Ms. Viola promised to sic her guard iguana, Herman, on me if I don’t take care of Yvette. As threats go, it’s not very intimidating, but I keep that bit of info to myself.
Getting back to my place is uneventful. She snoozes most of the twenty-minute drive to my secluded home. We pull up to the house, and Yvette gasps when she sees my home for the first time.
The facade is a striking white brick ranch-style home with a wrap-around porch skirting the front. “Your home is gorgeous.” She sighs and follows me to the front door.
“Make yourself at home,” I tell Yvette, opening the door with a little flourish, and she steps inside.
I give her a quick tour of the house, and it’s hard not to feel a swell of pride as we move through every space. The warmth of the open floor plan draws you in. Every room connects without barriers, creating an expansive feeling that’s both airy and intimate. The entryway opens up to a grand living area that flows effortlessly into the kitchen, where everything feels inviting. The high ceilings amplify the spaciousness, adorned with tasteful light fixtures that cast a soft glow over the space.
“Here’s the bathroom,” I say, waving my hand toward a door just off the main hallway. “And over here is the guest room.” I lead her inside, where the decor gives off a cozy vibe, light on frills but heavy on comfort. Soft bedding and plump pillows cover the large king-sized bed.
“Oh, this is nice.” Yvette runs a hand along the wooden dresser, clearly appreciative despite her lawyerly caution.
“Do you want to take a little nap while I cook us some lunch?” I’m not sure what I’m going to make since I haven’t shopped this week, but I’ll figure something out.
“I’ve actually got some work emails to tend to,” Yvette says as she reaches for her laptop bag. I help her get settled on the edge of the bed, then place a soft kiss on her cheek.
“I’ll head to the kitchen and whip up something quick. I can’t promise five-star dining, but it will beat the shit they passed off as food at the hospital,” I toss back over my shoulder, feeling oddly good about stepping into a domestic mode.
While I fix grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, I hear her voice drifting from the guest room as she takes care of business, and I find myself getting caught in the domesticity of it.
Once lunch is ready, I plate it up and head back to the guest room, catching her in a moment between phone calls. “Food’s ready,” I declare, and she looks up, her expression shifting from professional poise to something softer, more inviting.
“Rescuer by day, gourmet chef by…” she begins, that playful glint in her eye.
“All hours,” I finish for her, matching her grin with one of my own. “Anything for you, little knockout.”
Chapter 5
Yvette
The days at Banks' house drift into a comforting routine, an easy rhythm of recovery punctuated by his considerate gestures and unwavering kindness. I can feel my strength returning, but more than that, I find myself completely falling for the genuine sweetness of the man who’s inconveniently taken up residence in my mind, wrapping around my heart like a cozy blanket that I can’t help but nestle into.
As the warm Texas sun streams through the windows, I wake up each morning feeling a little lighter. I’ve become accustomed to the hum of his house and the inviting scent of breakfast coming from the kitchen.
On one particularly perfect day, my sister Romi swoops in with a whirlwind of energy and my little nephew, Spencer, wrapped tightly in a warm blanket tucked against her chest.
Romi sets the table on the back patio, the air warm with that early fall charm that Texas does so well. We’ve got a picturesque setting—an idyllic backyard that stretches out, framed by lively trees and blooming flowers. It feels like we’ve slipped into some kind of cozy family magazine spread, complete with the sounds of Spencer cooing adorably.