Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
“Dinner’s over,” he growls, yanking it open. “Enjoy your chaos.”
He’s gone for nearly an hour. Long enough for me to clean up dinner, reorganize a few shelves, and regret at least half of the words that came out of my mouth. I know he spent time in the military, and I know that changes a man. Integrating back into society can be just as traumatic as being deployed—an internal battlefield. Just as I start to worry he’s not coming back, the door creaks open, and Fox steps inside.
His expression is unreadable as he kicks off his boots and hangs up his jacket before walking to the thermostat and punching the down button a dozen times. I watch from the couch, unsure if I should apologize or keep quiet. He beats me to it.
“You’re exhausting,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Do you ever stop?”
I blink, caught off guard. “Stop what?”
“Always talking. Smiling. Pushing.” He runs a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “You’re like a damn avalanche in here, City Girl.”
I should be offended, but there’s something about the way he says it—like he’s more annoyed with himself than me.
“Maybe you need an avalanche,” I say softly.
His gaze locks onto mine, and the tension between us thickens. For a moment, I think he’s going to say something—something important. His grin slides to one side and he stalks to me, brushing my bottom lip with his thumb and then muttering, “Keep walkin’ around like you want me to kiss you and I just might do it, Princess.” He winks then backs away. “Goodnight.”
I watch him retreat to the loft, the door clicking shut behind him. I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. Because for all his growling and grumbling, Fox Miller has no idea what just hit him.
Chapter Six
Fox
The Devil’s Brew is buzzing when I step inside. The familiar hum of conversation and the clink of beer glasses is a welcome distraction from the chaos Amelia has brought into my loft—and my head.
Sliding onto my usual stool at the bar, I nod at Liam, who’s behind the counter tonight. He raises an eyebrow, his grin already too knowing for my liking.
“Long day?” he asks, pouring me a whiskey without waiting for an answer.
“You could say that,” I mutter, swirling the amber liquid in the glass before taking a sip. It burns, but it’s a welcome distraction.
Grady, Ridge, Zane, Cal, and Slate are crowded around a table near the dartboard, and it doesn’t take long for them to spot me. Cal waves me over with an exaggerated motion, like he’s been waiting all night for me to walk through the door.
“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “Here we go.”
I join them, whiskey in hand, already bracing for the onslaught.
“Fox!” Cal calls, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “About time you showed up. We were just talking about your new houseguest.”
I groan. “Of course you were.”
Grady snickers, his broad shoulders shaking. “A little birdie told us you’ve got yourself a live-in bride.”
“Don’t start,” I warn, but they’re like a pack of wolves, and the scent of blood is in the air.
“Live-in bride, huh?” Zane smirks, raising an eyebrow. “She wearing your flannels yet?”
“Shut up, Zane.”
Slate chimes in, leaning forward with his beer in hand. “Bet she’s leaving her stuff everywhere. Those sunshiney types always do. How’s that working out for you?”
“It’s a nightmare,” I snap, though the words come out weaker than I’d like. Because the truth is, it’s not entirely a nightmare. It’s something else entirely. Something I’m not ready to admit. “She’s re-organizing my life and fucking with my routine…Amelia is…a handful.”
“The good ones always are,” Grady smirks.
Cal, ever the instigator, narrows his eyes like he’s piecing something together. “Wait a second. It’s not Amelia Grant is it? Blonde, smiley, snarky, used to live in the city?”
I stiffen. “Yeah. What about her?”
“She was here one summer,” Cal says, pointing at me like he’s just cracked a case. “High school. She stayed with her aunt for a while next to my grandma’s house. I remember because she used to hang out at the old diner on Main Street. Then she vanished. Poof. Back to the city.”
That grabs my attention. Amelia never mentioned being here before. Why wouldn’t she tell me? What’s she hiding?
“You sure it’s the same girl?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.
Cal shrugs. “Pretty sure. She was all sunshine and sass back then too. Always smiling, always curious about everyone’s business. Kind of hard to forget.”
“She’s still that way,” I mutter, earning a round of laughter from the table.
Liam joins us, wiping his hands on a bar towel. “So, what’s the deal, Fox? You planning to keep her around, or is she just passing through?”
“Passing through,” I say automatically, though the words taste bitter. “She’s got a story to write, then she’s gone.”