Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Take care of yourself, please. Not just her.” I round the bed while he leans in, grudgingly presenting his cheek for a kiss. “I'd better go. I'll check on her before I'm out the door just to make sure everything's okay.”
“You're a good girl, Sadie. I'm sorry as hell you had to put up with this for so long.” Whatever guilt I carry around, it's nothing compared to the looks he gives me at times like this. “I wish we hadn't pulled you out of school. It was a damn waste. I never should've let Jackson strong-arm you.”
“Nonsense, dad. It was my choice.” Maybe not completely, considering the intense pressure, but no one ever forced me to fall into line. Family matters most. I don't regret putting life on hold to help, however hopeless it turned out to be. “Jackson's been very nice to me today. Whatever happened months ago, or just the other week, it's water under the bridge.”
His eyes flicker hopefully beneath his bushy salt and pepper eyebrows. “I'm glad. Happy New Year, Sarah.” He uses my real name and sends butterflies dashing through my belly.
“Happy New Year.” My fingers give his a parting squeeze, and then I head down. “It'll be better than the last. It has to be.”
Mom is in the kitchen fixing tea. She watches the kettle slowly steaming, her lips an impatient line. “Leaving already? That figures.”
I stop next to the door. What do I say to this crazy person I still love?
“I've got to go, mom. Work. I'll be by next week. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Wait!” She barks the one word that makes me freeze with my hand on the doorknob. I turn, a chill darting up my spine, wondering what's next. “How is he?”
She doesn't mean dad. Jesus, she can't mean...
I give her a rough look, trying to understand. Her head is a mess since she started losing it, true, but I can't fathom why she'd want to know anything about Marshal.
“The Castoff, I mean,” she says, stepping forward, confirming my worst fears. A freshly poured mug smokes in her hand. “Don't be coy with me, dear. Surely, you know what makes him tick by now.”
“Mia, I suppose.” It's as good an answer as any.
“Hm, yes, the little girl. I figured he'd be the weird, overprotective type.”
“Mom, it isn't like that. He really loves her. It could be a whole lot worse, for both of them, I mean.”
She wags her eyebrows, taking a pull off her tea. “So, he's lonely. Compensating for some great tragedy by showering affection on his darling girl. A shame.”
What the hell does she mean? I blink, a small voice in my head begging this to end. Whatever this even is.
“It's terribly predictable. I thought your squeeze would be a lot more interesting with the big dark secret that made him lash out at your brother, turning the town against him. These men, always the same.”
Did she just say...squeeze? “Whoa.” I put my hands out, every part of me in full flight at the mere suggestion. “He's my boss, mom. I'm his nanny. Nothing more.”
She shrugs, taking another sip so full I'm surprised it doesn't scorch her mouth. “So you say. Come back when you're ready to deal with a few more hard truths, Sadie. I'll be waiting.”
I'm so done. “Happy New Year to you, too, mom.”
I don't remember the last time I was so glad to climb into my car.
The relief is far from instant, even on the road, putting comfortable mileage between the circus my parents call home.
A sunburst flush on my cheeks smolders in my half-heated car. Cold weather makes it easier to feel than ever, and I wonder if there's any merit to my mom's insane words.
Every mile closer to Marshal's cabin, new questions charge through my brain, taunting and unpleasant.
The images in my head are even worse. They're Marshal in all his tall, steely-eyed muscle shirt glory. They're tattoos like beds of thorns, sharp words, and stubble that will burn like thistle on my skin.
They're everything I imagine he's doing when my back is turned – the lewd glances I sometimes feel sauntering up my legs, stopping at my ass.
They're fire and ice, January and July, a loving single father with a stoic heart and a hidden beast who will demolish me if our lips ever meet.
Okay.
So what if I can't deny this sick attraction? This weird, messy spark between us?
The rude questions rattling around in my brain are another matter.
Them, I'll defy until my dying breath. I'll toss the grains of truth hidden in my mother's crazy psychobabble on feral ground. A place where they'll never, ever take root.
Because if they do, if I start acting on heart stopping what ifs, we'll both have a lot more to worry about than who's spending evenings with Mia.