Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 146666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 587(@250wpm)___ 489(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 587(@250wpm)___ 489(@300wpm)
So. Embarrassing.
He started the truck, and she breathed out a sigh of relief. Okay. Maybe he hadn’t read what it said. That was good.
“Buckle in, Sugar Plum,” he told her.
Sure. She could do that. It took her a couple of tries, but she finally did up her seat belt.
Dear. Lord.
“Good girl.”
Could he tell how much those words affected her? She sure hoped not.
Usually, she was only this turned on when she read her books. Just because she never had sex didn’t mean she didn’t have needs.
They started back down the highway and she thought she could now breathe easier.
This was going to be okay. She could totally do this.
She had this.
6
She totally didn’t have this.
She was so far from having this that she was actually unraveling.
Slowly but surely.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Picking up her handbag, she reached in and wrapped her hand around Wally.
I’ve got this. I’m tough. It’s just a bit of freaking snow.
Tires screeching. A loud crash.
Cold . . . so cold . . .
Daddy!
Help me!
“Greer? Hey, Greer. Whoa, baby, you’re shaking.” A warm hand wrapped around her thigh, just above her knee. She startled. Her breathing grew faster. His words were muffled and faint.
Not even the fact that he called her ‘baby’ could penetrate the fog of fear she was suffocating in.
“Shh. You’re all right. You’re safe. I’m going to pull over.”
That infiltrated the fog. “What? No! Don’t!”
“Greer, you’re panicking.”
His voice was so tender. It nearly broke her. She wasn’t sure she could do tender right now.
“Please . . . just get me there. If you stop, it . . . it makes it worse. I can’t . . . if the snow comes down more and we’re still driving . . .”
“All right, Pumpkin, I’m going.”
“M-maybe with t-two hands on the wheel,” she managed to give him a small smile. It was completely fake, but she was trying. “N-not that I d-don’t like you t-touching me.”
He shot her another worried look. “That so? You like me touching you?”
Oh shit.
Why had she said that?
“Uh. Well. Just t-trying to be nice.”
“Ouch. Blow to the ego. So why don’t you tell me something about yourself? You know, since we’re about to spend the night together.”
“Um, well, I’m cold so could we t-turn up the heated s-seats?”
Another concerned look. Okay, no doubt he thought she was a basket case.
“Baby, it’s hot in here.” He put his hand over hers. “You’re still cold, though. Okay, reach back for my jacket and put it around you.”
“Oh, no. I’ll be okay.”
“Uh-uh, no lying or I’ll have to start singing.”
Huh?
He started to sing.
Oh God.
It was so bad. Soooo bad.
“Stop. Please, I’m begging you.”
“What? You don’t like my singing? I’m hurt, Pumpkin Spice. Truly.”
“That’s a terrible nickname.”
“Hmm. So bad that it’s good?” he asked.
“No. So bad that it’s actually awful.”
“Ouch. You wound me. Now, either you reach back and grab my jacket or I will.”
“So bossy.” She twisted to get the jacket and spotted snow hitting the window to her left.
Don’t look.
Don’t think about it.
She drew the jacket into the front seat and placed it over her.
Don’t look out the window.
Wally. She needed Wally.
She grabbed her handbag and pulled it onto her lap once again. Putting her hand inside, she wrapped it around Wally.
Okay . . . so it was a bit weird to hold onto a toy worm. But he had been her only friend for years.
He’d always been there for her when no one else had. So she’d squeeze the little worm life out of him if she had to.
Hack reached over and tucked the jacket around her leg. She gave him a surprised look.
“You like to fuss, huh?” she asked.
“Yep. I do. Make sure the other side is tucked around your leg. Have you got long johns on?”
“I think you should take me out to dinner before you ask me about my underwear choices,” she managed to joke.
He let out a small bark of laughter. “Fair enough, Princess.”
That nickname she didn’t mind so much. Not as good as Little girl, though. Or when he called her his good girl.
Whoa. Hold up. He never called you his.
She searched around, needing a distraction as the snow came down heavier. Shit. Shit. Was he going to lose control of the truck? Were they going to crash?
“Hey. Hey, look at me.”
Nope. Her gaze had been caught by the snow out the window. And she couldn’t stop staring.
“Greer. Be a good girl and look at me.”
Whoa. Immediately, her gaze moved to his. Yep. It was like those words cast a spell over her.
She wanted to be a good girl for him. So desperately.
“That’s it. Well done. I want you to keep your gaze on me, all right? Do not move it.”
“What happens if I do?” The words weren’t a challenge. She just wanted to know.
“Then you’re going to be in trouble.”