Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
She also got Kane’s wide, ice-blue eyes framed by dark lashes. She got my porcelain skin tone and my nose, small and delicate. Her rosebud lips only got fuller, and she had the chubbiest cheeks I’d ever seen.
Yes, she was gorgeous. And when you saw a baby with pink bows in her pigtails, being carried by a ripped man covered in tattoos, wearing all black with his hair tied back in a low bun and a look of utter devotion on his face, you stared.
We got used to it. Became a little more relaxed.
And then the photo happened.
Kane, holding Mabel. Thankfully, her face wasn’t visible, just the bows of her pigtails, but it was enough.
One day, our life in Jupiter was quiet, sleepy, comfortable. The next, reporters had descended. They formed a mob at the entrance to our house, the location had somehow been leaked.
They’d been at Nora’s bakery, swarming Kane, Mabel and me when we tried to enter. My blood pressure took off, and I panicked with the suffocating feeling of people closing in.
Kane, who had been clutching Mabel to his chest, had stiffened with fury, wordlessly handing her off to me as someone flashed a camera in her face.
I saw the clench of his fist, the writing on the wall. His expression was much the same as it had been in the kitchen with Gerald. But it was somehow … worse. More dangerous. Mabel was the most precious, innocent and pure thing in this world, and people were trying to tarnish her, capitalize on her. I felt consumed by rage, an insatiable need to unleash violence upon anyone near her.
Except there were too many people. And if Kane hit one, it would be immortalized in a photograph forever. His conviction had been overturned, but that didn’t mean something else couldn’t happen, that he couldn’t be taken away from us again. But I also couldn’t stop him from defending our daughter.
The door to the bakery opened, and Rowan rushed out, making a beeline for me and Mabel. Curling an arm around my shoulder, he hurried us inside. Not even vicious paparazzi dared block his path.
Kip came too, stepping in front of Kane. “Allow me, brother,” he said with a grin before punching a photographer in the face.
Then there was the incident at our house a few days later.
We’d been shaken by the scene at the café, but I’d finally stopped jumping at shadows. It helped, knowing Rowan and Kip were hard at work scaring every photographer off Main Street.
Kane had given statements via his publicist, giving not so veiled threats that he’d ruin the careers of any publication who published photos of Mabel.
There was not much more we could do other than ride it out.
Interestingly, this was the first time that I was calmer than Kane since Mabel’s birth. He was a thundercloud, stomping around the house, muttering about siccing Knox on every paparazzi in the vicinity.
I had left him to his mutterings, sitting outside with Mabel, feeding her.
Until a stranger with a camera came up the steps from the beach.
I didn’t so much let out a gasp before a flash of black came past me along with a yell to get Mabel inside.
I did so, heart galloping. Just as I closed the door, I heard a loud boom.
With a slack jaw, I realized that Kane was holding a shotgun and had fired it. I wasn’t sure if it hit the photographer or not. I surely hoped it didn’t.
Mabel whimpered, so I kissed her head, trying to calm her while watching Kane race down the beach.
My breathing didn’t regulate until I saw the photographer upright and running. For about two seconds before Kane tackled him.
Heart in my throat, I watched as Kane’s arms flailed, and his mouth moved rapidly before the photographer scampered off.
Kane walked back into the house, shotgun in one hand, camera in the other.
Closing my jaw seemed impossible.
He dropped both then took Mabel into his arms. “How’s my baby?” he murmured softly.
I just stared at him. “Where did you get a shotgun?”
“Baby gift,” he replied. “From Knox.”
I nodded, dragging a hand through my hair. That made sense.
“I don’t think that photographer is going to be quiet about that,” I told him.
Kane kissed Mabel’s head. “I hope to fuck he isn’t. I told him to inform his friends they wouldn’t get a warnin’ shot next time.”
I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath. There was no point in even trying to dissuade Kane from such things. A stranger had taken a photo of me nursing his baby. He was lucky there had even been a warning shot.
Not long after that, there was a call from the gate. The sheriff, Finn, had arrived.
Kane greeted him with a smile and the offer of coffee.
Finn accepted it, friendly enough as he sat at the breakfast bar and smiled at Mabel. She smiled back, which was rare for her. She was an immensely happy baby with her father and me but was picky about which strangers she smiled at.