Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Unable to help myself, I cup her soft cheek, loving the warmth in the palm of my hand. Her eyes flutter closed and she leans into my touch. I marvel at her pretty face, intrigued by the nose ring she now wears and briefly wondering where else she’s pierced. The fact that she seems to desperately need my affection has the protective, nurturing side of me flaring to life. I want to pull her to me and never let go, promising her the entire world—even her damn mother’s appearance if I could.
“You don’t have to protect me,” I say gently. “You don’t have to lie for me.”
Her eyes pop open and she sears me with a heated gaze that burns straight to my cock. So much for trying to ward off an erection in her vicinity.
“You’re so good to me, Hugo. I would do anything for you.”
I’m not sure what I’ve done to receive such loyalty from her, but I greedily drink it up. I like that she’s so willing to give it to me. I want to reward her. A hot, deep kiss is forefront on my mind. Of course I could never…
Instead, I settle for pressing a kiss to her forehead, lingering a few seconds longer than necessary. Finally, I pull away but don’t step back. I’m still a hot-blooded male, for fuck’s sake, and she’s too much of a temptation to deny myself her nearness.
“Any news on Mom?” she asks, tilting her head to the side. “I feel like we should be doing something. Looking for her.”
“Jude texted me this morning. It’s nothing to get your hopes up about, but she used her card this morning at Sweet Holes & Coffee Co.”
“The place right near the lodge?”
When I nod, she moves into action, grabbing a hair tie off her end table and tugging her silky strands into a messy top knot.
“We have to go there.” She slides her feet into her sandals and grins at me. “This is a warm lead. If we talk to the donut shop workers, maybe one of them will remember something.”
“Neena isn’t exactly the type to discuss the specifics of her life as someone makes her a matcha green tea.” I shrug, stifling a sigh. Her face falls, which has me rushing out, “But we can try.”
Her smile is back as she snags her purse off the dresser. “Don’t worry, Hugo, we’re going to find her. I promise.”
Does it make me an asshole if I’m not exactly eager to find my wife?
The drive to Sweet Holes & Coffee Co. takes longer than usual due to a fender bender involving four cars. An old woman with thick glasses and a toy poodle in her arms is nodding at an officer as he gestures to what must be her car at the beginning of the minor pileup. The rest of the people are in their Sunday’s best, clearly rushing to church at the last minute, making them susceptible to an accident.
“Look,” Aubrey says, pointing to the side of the road. “Baby ducks.”
It’s evident from my quick assessment that the old woman stopped in the middle of the road to keep from hitting the ducks and probably slammed on her brakes abruptly, causing the other three cars to ram into her from behind.
We eventually maneuver around the metal and debris scattered across the road and make our way to the donut shop. It’s packed by the time we arrive. Parking is a bitch and we end up having to park next door in the Park Mountain Modern Christ Church lot.
This doesn’t look promising.
We climb out of the vehicle and I have the urge to hold Aubrey’s hand as we pass between two cars sitting in the drive-through. I somehow manage to refrain, instead choosing to palm her lower back, guiding her toward the building.
The “now hiring” sign in the window seems useless this late Sunday morning. They’re severely understaffed and there are people everywhere. I’m itching to turn around to get the hell out of this place, but Aubrey’s fierce, determined expression keeps my feet rooted in place.
I’ll endure because of her.
“This doesn’t really seem like Mom’s kind of place,” she says, turning to look at me. “Too much chaos.”
I agree with her on that front, but she severely underestimates her mother’s love for the matcha green tea they make. Neena wouldn’t touch a donut hole to save her life, but that tea really turns her crank.
After a good twenty minutes of small talk, we finally make it to the register. The lanky guy with uneven facial fuzz offers me a tight, stressed smile.
“What can I get for you?” he asks, motioning toward the cases behind him. “All out of sausage rolls and pink sprinkled donuts, though. Always the first to go on Sundays.”
“We’re actually wondering if you can help us with something else,” Aubrey says, finally drawing his attention to her.