Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Mandel Tucker was charming, sexy, and so fucking confident that it drove Bull mad. He wasn’t one to get tongue-tied as soon as he met a striking man, but as the song said… just one look… How could a man forget those steely gray eyes that were so full of mischief that Bull had second-guessed every play Fox made at him?
He trudged up the stairs and made a left towards his side of the house. It was dark, quiet in his home. A peaceful time when his family slept safely in their beds and his animals were tucked in for the night. He stood at the wide, double-paned window and glanced out over his sprawling property, pride and appreciation warming his chest. He’d only been there two years, and he still couldn’t believe how much he and his staff had accomplished.
Bull had worked hard to rebuild his operation after losing his first ranch in a flood in Texas almost three years ago. He’d lost his animals, his house, his land… and his fiancé. And for a long time, he thought he’d lost his soul, but coming to Atlanta for a fresh start had been the best decision he could’ve made. He dedicated every ounce of energy to his ranch to make himself feel alive. He told himself repeatedly that his father and his ranch were all he’d ever need. But deep in his heart, he knew that wasn’t the whole truth. What about when his dad was gone too, and Ms. Amelia decided to spend her last years closer to her grandkids? Who would be left for him?
Bull took a long, hot shower, trying with all of his might to keep his mind off a certain silver-haired Fox, and his hand away from his hard dick, but he failed, gloriously. It was insane to want for something so badly, only to know he’d never have it. Once he’d finished in the bathroom, Bull adjusted the temperature on his space heater and climbed into his king-sized bed.
It was late, and dawn came early. He shivered beneath the cold covers, not just because there was no one else in it with him to keep him warm, but because he slept with his window slightly opened to listen to the sounds of his ranch. He needed it for white noise; otherwise, his mind would’ve raced all night.
Bull was in a deep sleep, dreaming about a life his mother used to promise he could have. A life with a protective, loyal man who would love him and want to call his ranch home. They were enjoying an evening ride after supper, he and his partner galloping side by side under a blanket of stars, but Mercy—the showoff that he was—pulled ahead. Just as Bull turned and laughed at the handsome man riding behind him, his dream, and hope, literally came to a crashing halt.
A window shattering on the ground floor had Bull springing out of bed and yanking his pistol out of his nightstand drawer. Those motherfuckers were back on his property again, and all thoughts of that peaceful dreamworld he’d been in two seconds ago were long forgotten.
Fox’s arms were sore from how much he’d thrown and yanked things around in his office, while Hart had remained annoyingly calm, perched on the edge of his desk. Fox threw his coffee mug against the wall, but the faint sound it made when it broke wasn’t as satisfying as he would’ve liked. He wanted it to be the head of that smug IA officer in the cheap suit who’d told him it was time for a vacation. Which was a dickhead way of saying Fox was suspended.
This is bullshit! Fox swiped his arm across his conference table, sending files flying everywhere, unsolved cases he’d spent countless nights obsessing over because he avoided going home. If he wasn’t at least saving lives each day, then— Fox’s chest heaved from the exertion… and the frustration.
“Are you done?” Hart asked as if he was bored.
“No, I’m not done!” he yelled in Hart’s face. “I did my goddamn job, man. Why the fuck am I on administrative leave?”
“With pay,” Hart amended.
“Yeah, that’s great. Now, I can continue to pay the dock fees for my fucking yacht, Hart!”
“Fox. Go home and get some sleep. I’m going to meet with the commander tomorrow. Lark will handle IA for us.” His boss yawned. “Just give it a few weeks for the noise to die down.”
It was after three in the morning by the time IA finished digging up his ass with an unlubed probe. Fox felt like an angry time bomb about to detonate, but Hart appeared unfazed, only impatient to get home. Maybe it was because he had a handsome man going with him, a dependable partner who Hart could gripe to about his horrible day and someone he trusted to make it all better. When Fox left the station, he went home to bare white walls, unused appliances, and cold, unnerving silence. At his condo, it was just him, his thoughts, and his guilt. He couldn’t let this latest reprimand fuck with his head more than it already had. A suspension would send him home with his tail tucked between his legs.