Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my mind immediately going to him, thinking that I look terrible in my bathing suit. This is the first time I’ve been brave enough to wear a two-piece, and maybe I shouldn’t have.
“What are you wearing?” he growls. That growl goes all through me and tells me that I don’t look bad. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“A bathing suit.” My deadpan delivery makes him smile.
“I can see that, but so can anyone else.”
“Well, it’s a pool and a private one at that,” I reply, laughing.
“You don’t even know, do you?” he asks, letting me go. I do not want him to let me go.
“Know what?”
“Never mind,” he says, striding toward the water. I follow him like a freaking puppy.
After swimming, we hit up a putt-putt golf course and an arcade. I honestly can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. Later, we have a surprisingly romantic dinner before he walks me to my bedroom door. Just when I think he’s going to kiss me again, he says good night and turns on his heels.
What the hell? Today was so… intense. Everything about it was, and yet, and the same time, I was so comfortable with him.
Something has got to give.
CHAPTER
FOUR
CONNALL
“Alright, are you ready?” She is about to knock on the door of Albert Jackson in Gulf Shores, and for every disappointment she gets, I get more and more protective of her heart and her hopes.
“Yep. I have no expectations,” she says but I see a little light leave her eyes with every revelation that this guy is not it, last the one a few days ago. She said she wasn’t expecting it to be him, and he was a nice enough guy. Polite, ambitious, and even complimented her, but it wasn’t him. She put on a brave face the entire time we were there, but when we walked out his door, I watched her shoulders deflate.
“Good.” I don’t say much else because I can hear someone from inside call out.
“Who's there?” A gruff voice asks behind the door.
“M-My name is February Graham. I am looking for Albert Jackson.” See. I can hear the hope. Suddenly, the door opens, and a man in a wheelchair answers.
“Whose looking for him?” I know immediately it is him, but his disposition is making me feel uneasy. I grip her hand, hoping she can feel my warning and my need to console her.
“Uh, I was wondering if, by chance, you donated sperm before you joined the military?” I can tell she is nervous because she doesn’t normally lead with that, but at the same time, it doesn't look like this old man is going to let us like in the others have so far so why not get it over with?
“Who the hell knocks on a man’s door asking personal questions like that? Y'all some sort of bible-thumping reprobates trying to recruit me into your cult? Cause let me tell you, me and God ain’t got much else to say to one another since he took my legs from me so you can get your nonsense off my porch before I reach back and shoot some buckshot into both of you.” She opens her mouth to say something else, but I grab her hand hard and shake my head before practically pulling her off that man’s porch.
“Jesus,” I say when we get into the rental car. She says nothing. Once we are out of his driveway, and down the street, I finally take a look at her and see her biting her lip. I am about to say something dirty when I realize she is silently crying, and tears have fallen while she is looking at her phone. “February, what’s going on?” She wipes her face and shakes her head. I don’t like her keeping shit from me, not when my job is to stand between her and pain of any kind. “Come one. What do you say we get some ice cream and talk? How does that sound?” She looks at me, her smile not reaching her eyes, but with her puffy eyes, she has never looked more beautiful.
“Sure,” she says before putting her phone back.
We drive a while before coming to their downtown area, and I see an old-fashioned type of ice cream place. We order it and walk outside to see at one of their umbrella stands. “Are you going to talk to me, beautiful?” She blushes and takes a lick of her cone. I watch her moan when the caramel praline hits her tongue. “Fuck,” I groan, wiping my hands down my face. She looks at me like she doesn’t know exactly what she did, but I'm not buying it.
The thing is, neither of us has spoken of that kiss, and it is not because I don’t want to, but I also know she is dealing with a lot, and I don’t want to be the creep trying to get into her panties while she is emotional and shit unless I am the one who made her that way. “Sorry,” she says, shrugging her shoulders, trying to hide her smirk. Yeah, my ass.