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)
“Terrible,” Red whispers.
She doesn't have a clue, but she will. My tepid smile burns. “I won't bore you with the rest of the details. She was sure it was mine. I listened. Said we'd have a paternity test to sort it out when all was said and done. I didn't need to wait for the results because the day that little angel was born, I knew. A man always does, holding his own flesh and blood for the first time.”
Sadie's face lights up. I'm sure it's an adorable image in her head, picturing my cruel mug shocked into silent hope, staring at a newborn baby.
It isn't wrong. That tiny miracle in my hands gave me a new respect for life.
“The kid taught me a thing or two, yeah. Jenna, not so much. She took off two or three weeks after she got out of the hospital. Never came by once to see our little girl. I decided after the first week with no calls I wouldn't fucking let her.” It's easy to forget what happened next. There's no point in holding grudges. “Flash to the end. She took off half-drunk on a winter night, not so different from this one. You know how the roads are around the bluffs. Too much ice, a bad reflex or two...calamity. I'll never know what ended her for sure. They yanked what was left of her car out of the freezing river a couple days later.”
“Oh my God. I'm...” She pauses, holding in her sorry. Smart move. “So, you two never tried to make it work? I mean, if she'd lived...”
“Never.” It comes out raw. Then my heart starts hammering so fucking hard I think I'm about to pass out.
My hands take hers. She thinks it's some confession, some special chemistry, but I know what it really is: getting a grip before I hit the floor, mind tangled up in my worst mistake.
The one I still won't ever tell her. Not anyone.
Red's just looking. Her face is softer now. Stunned, maybe, trying to digest the hell I just served her.
I'm waiting.
Shit, on second thought, I don't know what I expect. A gasp, a look of shock, more sympathy streaming from her mouth I want nothing to do with.
But Red does the worst she could possibly do: she leans in, hands tight around my neck, bringing her lips into mine.
Sweet fuck.
We're two for two. I'm convinced my dick is about to explode.
But that first kiss was passion, celebration.
This one's honest fury. Manic desire spiked with truth.
Too honest. Too fucking truthful.
I'm growling as I push her away. I haven't had to fight emotion like this since my run-in with her asshole brother three years ago, trying not to end his life on the simmering pavement, in front of a couple hundred people before the cops stepped in.
“Don't,” I say, holding her at arm's length. Doesn't stop my fingers from coiling around her wrist, pressing tight. Her pulse is livid. “We shouldn't.”
“I know, Marshal. I'm not stupid. I'm also perfectly well aware it isn't every day you drain a little of the snake bite that's killing you.” Those big green eyes are undaunted. They're also insane. They want to get closer. Still.
Just fucking great.
This is where I am. Not only do I have to worry about a flammable attraction to my live-in nanny, my mortal enemy's sister, and spilling my spaghetti. Now, I've got myself a goddamn armchair psychologist who wants in my head as bad as I want up her skirt.
Kill me.
“Don't get any grand ideas, Red. I see it in your eyes: you want to be the beauty to my beast, the woman who figures me out, ties me down, and fucking tames me. It's a walking cliché, and you can forget it right now. You see them coming from ten miles out when you've got a four year old into fairy tales.”
It's hard not to erase that shy, frail smile written on her face. But the only way I'd do that is with another kiss, and we're at our limit for shit-that-should-never-happen today.
“Last warning,” I growl, reaching for the door. “We need to get back in there. I've got a ham to pull out of the oven and a green bean casserole to make. No more games. I want to enjoy dinner without another side of fuck-me eyes or dark ass secrets.”
Red doesn't say another word. She follows me in and helps set the table.
It's a small miracle we sit down like a normal family. Mia helps break up the awkward tension – totally all on Sadie – telling us her big plans for the shiny New Year.
My little girl can't wait to be class princess in kindergarten. Never mind they don't do royalty. Maybe I've gotten her too damn deep in fairy tales.
I humor her anyway, letting her know she'll always have a permanent place as princess, Keeper of the Overfed Tiger in this house. The lighter stuff also helps me ignore every attempt at eyes Red makes across the table.