Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
“Do you have ears?”
I looked over his shoulder.
“Fucking hell.” His words were vibrating with amusement again. “What kind?”
I crossed my arms on my chest and muttered, “Not telling.”
He stroked my jaw with his thumbs, urging, “Jessie.”
Ugh.
I looked at him. “Ursula, Maleficent, and I bought some Tinkerbell ones off Etsy. Okay? Happy?”
He sounded like he was choking when he asked, “Tinkerbell?”
It was verbal when I grunted, “Ugh!”
I pushed him again, but he didn’t sway this time.
Nope.
Not an inch.
He kissed me again.
So obviously, I got over my tiff real quick.
When he lifted his head, he swept his thumb along my lower lip and whispered, “That’s why Paris came to mind.”
He was correct.
I’d done Disneyland. I’d done Disneyworld, Animal Kingdom and Epcot.
I had not done Euro Disney.
“Bucket list,” I whispered back.
His eyes warmed so much, the look he was giving me was downright tender.
I was trying to cope with the beauty of that when he gave me more beauty and brushed his lips against mine.
After that, he moved away and pulled me off the counter to set me on my feet.
“Grab a seat, babe. I’ll get you set up then go take a shower.”
I slid onto the stool he vacated and saw he’d been reading the paper.
An actual newspaper.
“You read an actual newspaper?” I asked, looking to him at his Nespresso machine.
“Only the Sunday edition. It’s a tradition.”
My gaze wandered back to the paper.
I knew there was more to it, but I’d just survived confessing my Disney side. I wasn’t sure I could take him sharing the only time he spent with his ex was when they shared the Sunday paper (or something).
“Being in the FBI is no joke.”
I focused on him. He’d moved to the island and was leaning into his forearms across from me.
“Working for Mace was no joke either,” he continued. “The same with my current position. And I do workout. I hike. I like to be outside. I have a housecleaner, but I take care of my own yard. I’m a busy guy. I learned early in my FBI days that whatever shit I’d face on the job that I couldn’t work out when I trained my body, I could let go if I made Sunday mornings with coffee, a bagel and the paper sacrosanct. I could catch up on the news. Read the comics. Check out the sports section. Do my best with the crossword. And just be.”
“That’s pretty cool,” I said.
He pushed up and gestured to the paper. “Help yourself. I got my fix.”
“Thanks,” I replied.
He did my coffee, spread the perfect amount of shmear on my bagel, and kissed the side of my head before he muttered, “I won’t be long.”
I lifted my cup at him as I turned the page on the New York Times.
Yeah, he got The Times.
Even his Sunday paper was classy.
I heard the shower go on from afar, right before I heard a vibrating noise coming from my cross body that was sitting on the island not far from me.
Getting a text was good. It took my mind off Eric in the shower.
Eric, naked and wet in the shower.
Eric, naked, wet, and in the shower just down a long-ass hall from me.
I might not exercise, but I bet I could sprint down that hall. I might be winded at the end of it, but I had a feeling once I got there Eric would be up for doing all the work.
Pushing these lovely thoughts aside (with no small amount of difficulty), I set my mug down, reached for my bag, pulled my phone out, engaged the screen, and stared in shock at the number of texts I had.
Three from Luna. Two from Raye. Two from Harlow.
And five from Katelyn as well as a voicemail from her.
I didn’t know where to begin, since I was freaking out about what all this could be because it had to be about Jeff.
I started with the voicemail.
Katelyn said, “Hey, Jess. Joshua said you came by yesterday asking about Jeff and I cannot believe he didn’t tell you what’s going on. First, Jeff’s okay. Second, we got him back on his meds. The rest, it’s too much for a voicemail. Call me.”
I then went to her text string and saw the following:
First: Joshua is in sooooo muuuuuch trouble!
Second: Jeff’s fine. He’s been in touch. We’ve seen him. We got him back on track.
Third: I still cannot believe my husband didn’t tell you your brother is okay.
Fourth: There’s more you need to know.
Fifth: Screw it, I’m calling you.
I then went to Luna’s text string.
First: How’d the date go?
Second: OMG, bitch! Arthur emailed.
Third: Call me!!!!!
I hit up Harlow and Raye’s texts, and they both started with asking about the date, and ended with demanding I call Luna.
I called Luna.
She answered with, “Oh my God. Thank fuck. Your car’s not in its spot, even so, I’ve gone to hammer on your door five times. Are you still at Eric’s?”