Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Nope. I think he’s taking a nap,” Cross said, leaning back in his chair and sipping something out of a travel mug.
“Where the fuck is the air up here, anyway?” Weston asked. “This right here? All this snow? This is why I live in North Carolina. I like a little moisture in my air. Oxygen, too. It’s too damned cold.”
“Don’t be a pussy,” Crossland muttered. “It’s at least twenty-five degrees out here.”
“Not all of us live in Canada,” Wes fired back.
I poured myself another glass. “I’m going to need way more alcohol if I have to listen to you.”
Weston lifted his hand to his mouth like he was holding a microphone. “The assholish role of Ethan will be played by Asher Silas tonight.”
“Fuck off.” I took another sip and savored the burn. At least that was something I could feel. The rest of me was dead, and whatever dared to try and live was just…angry.
“This have anything to do with why Daisy isn’t here?” Cross asked.
I took another drink.
“Read the fucking room, man,” Ethan snapped.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” Crossland muttered.
“She left him because he bought her a publishing imprint,” Weston filled him in.
“She left him because he blew up at her for missing the meeting,” Gareth added his two cents.
“She left me because she thought I needed perfection and claimed she wasn’t it,” I corrected them.
The door opened, and we all turned to see who it was.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was out here.” Serenity winced as she saw us, and she tugged her pink hat down over her ears with one hand, holding a book in the other. “I was just looking for a little quiet.”
Of course the book was Daisy’s. Fuck my life. The woman was everywhere. It had been a week, and still my bedroom in Charleston smelled like her. I’d found one of her notepads in my car—the ones she used to jot down random things—on my way to the airport. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard her laughter, saw her smile…and then remembered her tears.
“You’re fine,” Ethan assured Serenity. “There’s a warm spot right over there if you’re looking for a little space.” He pointed toward the end of the covered deck, where a standing heater blazed with enough warmth to make the view of the mountains ripple.
“Thanks.” She offered a shy smile and walked out.
“It’s too cold,” her guard barked, his entire face puckering.
“I just really need some air,” she said softly, a pleading look on her face.
“And I just really need to not freeze my nuts off. Get your ass back in the house.” He glowered at her.
Gareth stood. He was easily four inches taller than the guard and had about fifty pounds on him, too.
Shit. I’d had way too much to drink for this and somehow not enough.
“Where I’m from, we don’t talk to ladies like that,” Gareth growled.
Serenity’s blue eyes flared wide.
“Like I give a shit what anyone does where you’re from,” the guard fired back, his Boston accent thick.
Gareth took a step forward. “You know exactly where I’m from, asshole. Now why don’t you go inside and relax, and she’ll do the same right over there?”
The guard glanced toward the other seating area and back to Gareth. “If something happens to her, it’s on me.”
“What the hell is she going to do?” Weston asked. “James Bond her ass over the railing onto a snowmobile and disappear into the hundred acres of nothingness around us? She’s not even wearing snow boots.”
The muscle in the guard’s jaw ticked.
“If something happens to her, it’s on me,” Gareth declared. “Now give the woman ten damned minutes to herself.” He walked forward and pulled a couple hundred-dollar bills out of his pocket, handing them to the guard. “Our secret.”
The guard grunted but took the money and walked back inside.
“Thank you,” Serenity said, offering Gareth a flash of a timid smile.
“Don’t trust your guards. They know exactly who I am and still let me pay them off.” He turned his back on her and headed back to his seat. “And don’t pull any of that James Bond shit, either. I’m in no mood to run you down on a snowmobile.” He sat back down, but angled his seat so he could see the blonde.
“Doyle’s such an overprotective asshole,” Ethan muttered.
“It’s not overprotection. He sees her as a commodity and guards her as one,” Gareth commented, leaning back in his seat. “But back to the problem at hand. Ash, are you seriously going to sit around and drink yourself into a stupor because you had a fight with the woman you love?”
“Co-sign,” Weston said, leaning forward to warm his gloveless hands by the firepit.
“As opposed to what?” I fired back. “Begging her to be with me when she clearly doesn’t want to be? No thank you.”