Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Is that low, vibrating sound an actual…growl coming from him?
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jigsaw
The way I’m holding myself back from punching this motherfucker into next week can’t be healthy.
Margot’s pretty face is salt-pale and clenched with anxiety. This isn’t a random guy here for the funeral. He has to be one of the exes who treated her shitty. There’s no other reason for her rigid posture. I’ve seen her interact with quite a few clients now. She’s always warm and friendly. So natural and effortless at putting people at ease. Now, she looks like she wants to melt into the pavement or punch him in the nuts.
His jaw flexes as he fixes me with an imperious glare. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
Your worst nightmare.
My hand strays to the hunting knife at my side.
“Oh.” A short, choking sound stumbles out of Margot’s mouth, as if she had to cut off an automatic apology.
Good girl. Don’t you dare apologize to this fucker for a damn thing.
She tips her head back and smiles up at me. “This is my boyfriend Jensen. Jensen, this is Daniel.” She waves her hand at him as if he’s an insect she’s trying to shoo.
So this is the guy who made her react so strangely the other day when her father mentioned him.
Definitely an ex.
Dan’s mouth mashes into a thin line, his gaze darting between Margot and me. “You’re…I see…”
One biker plus one mortician doesn’t seem to compute in Dan’s uptight brain.
Ignoring him for the moment, I curl my arm around Margot’s waist, turning her toward me. “You need me to stay, babe?” I ask her in a low voice, not caring if Daniel overhears, but wanting to exclude him.
I’ve got maybe an hour and a half if I want to get to church on time. This douche canoe can’t possibly stay at the service that long, can he?
She opens her mouth and hesitates, clearly wanting to say yes. “I know you have to meet up with—”
“I always have time for you. Let me grab that stuff you wanted from upstairs.”
“Thanks.” She blows out a relieved breath. “That’d be great.”
“You got it.”
“How did you two even meet?” Daniel blurts, barely keeping his tone on the polite side of snide.
“Jensen’s a business associate of Dad’s.” Margot shrugs. “We ran into each other at a mutual friend’s wedding and things sort of…”
“Yes, they did,” I confirm with a low growl, pulling her closer and pressing another kiss to her cheek.
Margot laughs softly but doesn’t pull away. I slide my arm around her waist and turn her toward the porch steps.
“Uh, is it possible to go in early?” Daniel asks, hurrying to catch up.
“Sure,” Margot says over her shoulder.
Inside the back hallway, we run smack into Mr. Cedarwood. He actually smiles when he sees us, even though I’m basically mauling his daughter. The dude sure has accepted me dating Margot better than I thought he ever would.
“Jensen.” He beams. “Good morning.”
“He’s helping with a few things,” Margot explains, pulling slightly away from me. As if her dad can’t look outside and realize my bike’s been parked in the same spot for days. As if her cousin won’t mention I came downstairs with Margot this morning.
“Good. Good. Thank you.” His forehead creases into a scowl as his gaze lands on something behind us. Daniel, no doubt. The flicker of annoyance disappears as her father’s face smooths into a professional mask of a welcoming smile. “Daniel, what are you doing here?”
Is that a hopeful note in his voice? Would he rather see Margot with that uptight prick? If he had the same suspicions that I do about the way Daniel treated his daughter, would he slam the door in the guy’s face like I’m dying to do?
Nope. Within seconds, the two of them get cozy catching up and talking about Mrs. Penny. Cedarwood leads Daniel down the hall with a hand on his shoulder.
Who gives a fuck? Margot’s too smart to be fooled by that guy. And she’s not a pushover who bends to her father’s will either. Gretel alone is a bundle of black, furry proof that Margot does what she wants.
“Who is he?” I ask.
Margot’s gaze shifts away. “I really don’t want to talk about him now.”
“I assume he’s an ex of some sort?”
The anxiety creasing her forehead confirms it even though she doesn’t say a word.
She squeezes my hand. “Thanks for sticking around,” she whispers.
“Not a problem.” I bend down and kiss her cheek. “Where will I find your planner? And what does it look like?”
“Um, it’s blue with a clasp. Next to my lounge chair in the living room. You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” I flick my gaze toward Daniel and her father. “You want me to wait a minute?”
“No.” She tilts her head toward the hallway. “I’ll be in the service room. I need to check on the flower arrangements.”