Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
And I don’t know many more headaches I can pretend to have when they start arguing over paint colors – for the van and the nursery – before they’re onto me.
My arrival in the garage – to no surprise – isn’t immediately noticed due to Kipp being buried under the hood of Nolan’s tow truck and Nolan unhappily parked behind the wheel. “You’re fuckin’ sure, Kid?”
“I’m sure.”
“Realllll fuckin’ sure?”
“Reallll fuckin’ sure.”
“Reallll, realllll fuckin’ sure?”
“Doesn’t matter how many reals you wanna put on it, I’m fuckin’ sure, Nolan.” All of a sudden, Kipp slams the hood down and plants his palms on top of it. “You checked the fuel gage. I checked the fuel gage. You checked again, and then had me spend hours running diagnostic tests for two days. Everything is coming up clean.” He lets his head fall sympathetically to one side. “You’re stressed about something, and I get the feeling it’s not about your truck, Sir.”
That’s because it’s not.
Not really.
The truck is more like a glaring miscalculation that’s a part of a much bigger equation, which includes being worried that he won’t be here when we need him the most.
That shit scares him more than anything to do with Brad who – by the way – has seemingly disappeared again.
Our love letter in bones and camera feed that couldn’t be traced has been followed by silence.
Complete.
And.
Total.
Silence.
Again.
That’s what’s keeping me up at night.
His outward tantrums are always more for show.
It’s his quiet calculating ones that typically reveal the real reasons to fear him.
His reach.
His power.
His resolve.
Rather than confess what’s actually troubling him, he kicks his chin in my direction. “Maybe it’s about our woman possibly freezing to death in that outfit.”
Kid whips his head around at the same time I sass, “It’s not even that cold out, Mutt.”
“Not with you wearin’ that, Rabbit.” He gives his collar a playful tug. “Feels like my nuts are being roasted over an open fire.”
“You look incredible, baby,” Kipp properly compliments on a crooked grin. “Like the only thing we want wrapped under our tree.”
“Or unwrapped,” Nolan lightly chuckles. “I’m not that picky.”
“You two really do say the sweetest things.” More laughter echoes around the garage prior to me rolling a finger around. “Let’s get going, though. I don’t wanna miss the moment where they light the big tree.”
The annual Christmas festival actually doesn’t occur in the heart of the town like one would suspect.
No.
It occurs on the very outskirts, along the county border, where DC and CW meet, allowing both cities to bond together to create a lucrative, community-based experience for both areas considering how often their residents, as well as patrons, overlap.
While taking two vehicles isn’t my favorite – nor Kid’s – we understand it’s necessary given that Nolan’s on call.
Being not on call has been a less than fun argument the two of them increasingly get into that groaning about cramps – I may or may not actually have – thankfully momentarily pauses.
I probably shouldn’t exaggerate my feelings this much, but it’s such a handy tool.
And if my guys have taught me anything, it’s that all tools in the toolbox are meant to be used for something.
“Relax, Kid,” grumbles Nolan under his breath as he drops a loving arm around my shoulder. “It’s highly unlikely anyone’s gonna call tonight.”
“Yeah, but they could,” he fusses while folding his fingers with mine, “and then you’ll have to go and miss our first Christmas festival together as a family.”
“I have to be on call because we have a family,” Mutt hisses, leaning slightly around me to do so. “The house we’re building, the baby we’re having, the…past…we’re…trying to put to rest,” he emphasizes with a firm expression, “aren’t fuckin’ free. And we ain’t exactly millionaires-”
“Far from it with the way you invest,” I playfully interject, only to receive a small swat to the ass by Nolan.
“Which means my ass has to be on call especially during the holiday season when the rates are damn near doubled for my services and the licensing board is more lenient on how many hours in a row you can grab.”
Kid’s light gray knit pullover covered shoulders slump in defeat.
“I won’t work Christmas,” Mutt swears for the third time today. “Remember?”
Our boyfriend nods, adjusts his hold on my hand, and we continue onward towards the back of the crowd that’s congregating together for the one thing I absolutely didn’t want to miss.
An announcer begins shortly upon our arrival; however, paying attention to the history of this event is abandoned for scouring the bustling scenes all around us. Trucks for hot chocolate and apple cider are sprinkled in between booths for crafting and contests. There are tables selling everything from candles to crocheted items to herbal infused remedies claiming to cure your cold or boost your immune system. Allowing my grin to grow bigger and bigger is easy, yet ignoring the feeling of someone watching me isn’t.