Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 156146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
I tipped my head coyly. “Who do I think I’m kidding?”
“And she’s back,” he muttered, his dark eyes lighting. Then he said, “No, the one before.”
He wanted to know?
To get this insanity done, I’d tell him.
“I will find a man who could do his worst, and I’ll be totally fine to walk away.”
“In other words, a man you don’t love.”
I nodded curtly. “I might find two of them.”
Another lip quirk and, “Right.”
“Do we have an accord?” I pressed.
“I’ll give you this, I won’t tell Judge until we get what we gotta get done today done.”
“No,” I parried. “Until I’m driving away.”
“You got it.”
“And…I’ve been gone at least fifteen minutes.”
“Now you’re pushin’ it, sweetheart.”
Ugh.
I clicked my teeth.
He bared his in a smile.
Could I make that bargain?
This means you don’t have to leave now, and you have more time with Judge.
Without me willing it to do so, my hand pushed out.
And my mouth said, “Deal.”
He took it, dwarfed it and squeezed too hard, though I didn’t think he meant to, I just wasn’t sure he knew his own strength.
“Deal,” he grunted.
But there was no lip quirk.
He was smiling.
Enormously.
Lord, help me.
Now what had I done?
Chapter 18
The Release
Chloe
After the preliminary torture of the day with Judge was done, I drove up to Bowie’s massive manse wondering what became of that iron will I was so very proud of.
I was a quivering mess.
This was partly because, after Judge and Zeke rejoined us, regardless of my attempts at assuming an attitude that should have formed a layer of hoarfrost over my entire body, Rix had morphed to good-natured, playful, and generally acting like I was his adored lost little sister found.
It was tremendously appealing.
It was also excruciatingly annoying.
I never settled my gaze on him without it being my patented Death Stare.
He acted like it was cute and even chucked my chin once while I was giving it to him.
As I said.
Annoying.
This, I could handle, if Judge had not demonstrated his best buddy openly liking me had made his millennium.
In other words, neutral, courteous Judge had vanished.
Once he’d returned from his run, he became the Judge I knew.
Teasing. Funny. Attentive. Affectionate.
I caught him staring at my ass (sexily), my breasts (appreciatively), and I caught this because not only didn’t he hide it, he’d done it meaning to get caught.
He’d done it meaning to show how deeply he was attracted to me.
And not once, not twice, not thrice, but seven times (oh yes, I counted) while we were in one of the three spots he’d selected where we would film portions of our message (I played Dad, he played Bowie) that we read off sheets of paper Judge had printed out, he not only touched my body, he touched my hair.
He tucked it behind my ear.
He pulled some away from where it became stuck on my lips after we were hit by a mountain breeze.
He flicked it over a shoulder.
And once, he got close to me, and instead of putting his arm around me as he had been doing (and it would reveal too much to pull away, so I didn’t—see? Total…torture), he trailed his hand up my back, gathered the lot of it and held it in a ponytail with his fist.
Yes.
He did that.
Like we were together and that was his wont.
When it was not.
No matter the shield of ice I put up, he flirted with me outrageously the entire time.
It.
Was.
Agony.
But even as I was enduring it, I knew the worst was yet to come.
I was right.
I was not in my car driving away for ten minutes before my phone blew up first with calls, then with texts.
I didn’t even have to look (and thus, I didn’t) to know that, as promised, Rix had shared.
The good news was, during our time together, I’d dropped the falsity that I was going straight home. They had no idea I was headed to Bowie’s.
So if, say, Judge wished to make some grand gesture and seek me out (and knowing what I knew of Judge, and how deeply he was attracted to me, and how deeply he now knew I was attracted to him, this was precisely what he would do), he’d be headed the wrong way.
Regardless if dinner with Mom and Bowie was a good hiding place, I wished I hadn’t arranged it. I needed to go somewhere (perhaps Mi-Young and Jacob’s? or, perchance, a remote cabin in Siberia?) and pull myself together.
Rediscover the true Chloe and then fortify her.
But, I told myself, a good way to do this was being with family.
And although there were niggles that probably would never go away that was nostalgia I couldn’t shake about what had once been, there was also great beauty in being with Mom and Bowie when they were together.
Seeing Mom happy again.
Seeing how madly Bowie loved her.
Not to mention, feeling how much he cared about me.