Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I looked at it and groaned.
“What?” he asked as he changed lanes behind a fast-moving car.
“It’s my mother,” I grumbled.
“Why did you groan because it’s your mother?” he wondered as he multitasked by typing in a license plate while also driving and periodically glancing at me.
“I guess it’s easier to just let you listen,” I grumbled. “I might’ve mentioned the serial killer in our last text message before I had to go to work today, and she’s been painfully patient with me, but I imagine that patience has come to an end.”
I was right.
I answered the phone on speaker and said, “Hello?”
The moment that my mom heard my hello she started in. “Ellodie Cassandra Solaire.”
I looked over at Quaid to see a grin fully in place. When he caught me looking, he pointed out, “She middle-named you.”
“Who is that?” my mom snapped.
“The man that I’m wildly in love with,” I blurted.
Quaid’s brows rose to his hairline.
My mom, who I knew was gearing up to yell at me about my earlier text message, paused.
Then said, “I’m not going to address that right now. What I am going to address is your text of: Hi, Mom. Doing well. I just wanted to let you know that I may have dodged going out on a date with a serial killer.”
The man at my side snorted.
“So how about you tell me what’s going on, daughter? Because I’m about two seconds away from getting in my ‘Hoe and driving your way,” she fumed.
My mom and her ‘Hoe, better known as a Tahoe, didn’t drive far.
My mother was the ultimate passenger princess. I didn’t think she’d driven herself farther than the mailbox since she married my dad thirty-two years ago.
For her to say she’d make the drive… Yikes.
“Mom,” I started, but the man on the other side of his own ‘Hoe interrupted me.
“Mrs. Solaire,” Quaid said. “I’m officer Quaid Carter with the Dallas Police Department.”
“You’re in love with a police officer?” my mom squeaked.
I opened my mouth to deny it, but Quaid had other plans.
“She’s moving in with me, and we’re going to make sure she’s very safe,” Quaid promised. “We met when we found out that she’d turned down a man on a dating app…”
He then went on to explain everything, not sparing her the smallest of details.
He treated my mother like an equal, and I knew that would go a long way with her.
Though, I wouldn’t have given her all of the details.
She didn’t need to know that I was thinking about working with the DPD to find this guy.
“Your dad is going to have a coronary,” Mom said. “I can’t believe I have to tell him all of this. You know he’s going to want you to come home.”
“Going home isn’t happening,” I replied. “I have clinicals that I have to get done soon. I have work. I have an apartment that isn’t going to pay for itself, and Quaid’s here.”
Technically, Quaid wasn’t exactly what I made him out to be, but she didn’t need to know that.
All she needed to know was that I was safe and protected here.
So she didn’t freak out and hire a bodyguard for me; that would make life a hell of a lot harder than it needed to be.
Because she would.
“Okay, well we’ll talk more about this later.” She groaned. “I hate that I’m about to have this conversation. Call me a lot. Check in so I don’t worry. And send me this Quaid’s number. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about him. Honey, we tell each other everything.” She sighed. “Love you, bye.”
We didn’t tell each other everything.
She told me everything.
But there was only so much information that you wanted from your own mother. And I wasn’t going to tell her everything there was to know about me.
It was obvious I’d made a mistake in telling her about the serial killer this morning. But I’d done it in a moment of weakness, feeling scared and alone in my apartment all by myself.
“Your mom sounds like a hoot,” the man at my side said. “Go ahead and send her my number.”
I snorted. “Technically, I don’t have your number. Just your office number.”
He winked. “Send the office number to her. That may be the easiest for her to get in touch with me. Use my phone to send it. The passcode is 1221.”
I snooped on his phone for twenty minutes, because right after he gave me his code to get in, he pulled a car over for nearly slamming into him.
He was currently giving the poor old lady a sobriety test.
Truthfully, what she needed was a retest on her driver’s license.
After sending his number to me and my mom, I then programmed myself into his.
Or tried to.
Because he already had all my information.
I figured he got it when he had my phone to look at the dating app.