Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 100680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Apparently, he enjoyed being needed.
He liked being a hero.
And he’d had no idea before now.
As he was waiting for the soup to heat, he glanced over at her. She looked a lot better. Still, he should take her temperature and get her back into bed.
Fuck. He really didn’t want another night on that couch, though. It was a nightmare. The armchair was more comfortable.
Was she well enough to be on her own?
Did he want to leave her?
No. Not really.
His phone buzzed and he drew it out. Victor.
Victor: We found who delivered those packages. At the warehouse.
Fuck. He frowned. He’d received enough of these messages to understand the hidden message.
They’d found the person who’d been supplying Mixology at Glory the other night and had him at one of the warehouses. He’d need to call Victor and find out where.
But could he leave Aston?
You have to. This is about business. Your business.
And you could probably do with some space.
Yeah. He couldn’t deny that.
Maxim: One hour.
There was no reply. But he wasn’t expecting one. Victor wasn’t big on talking. Nope, he was more a man of action.
Pouring out some soup, he walked over with the bowl.
“Aston?”
She startled, then gave him a small smile. Fuck. He realized then that she didn’t smile a lot . . . but when she did, well, it was like the sun coming out after a storm.
It made him feel lighter and brighter.
Like he was a thousand feet tall and could do anything.
And that feeling was addictive.
“Sorry, I was daydreaming, I guess. Thank you so much for the soup. It was really nice of you.” She was staring at the soup like he was bringing her a bowl of gold.
“You don’t have to thank me again.”
She raised her eyebrows, probably wondering why he sounded so grumpy.
“It’s just soup, Rainbow. It was barely any bother at all.”
Fuck, he felt like shit as her shoulders deflated. “Oh, well, I still thought it was nice. Can’t remember the last time anyone made me food other than when you made me soup the other night.”
Fuck. She was definitely killing him.
“I have to go,” he said abruptly.
She gave him a surprised look before her face went blank in that way that he hated.
He could admit to himself that he often riled her up just to get her to lose that blank look.
Maybe not exactly mature of him . . . but he preferred her fiery to closed off.
“Of course. I’ve held you up long enough. Did you have to take time off work?” She winced.
He shook his head. “No. The club is closed Sundays and Mondays. It’s all good. But I have a few things I need to do.” However, he still didn’t move. He couldn’t seem to leave her.
This was ridiculous.
Friend. She was a friend.
“Of course. Thank you so much. I owe you big time.”
“You don’t owe me shit, baby girl.” Fuck. Stop calling her that. “All I want is for you to rest and get better. All right?”
“I’ll be spending the rest of the night laying around.”
“And tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” she asked innocently.
“Yes. Stay home tomorrow. No work.”
She sighed. “You let a man make you soup and suddenly he thinks he’s the boss.”
He smirked. “Baby, I am the boss. All the time. And you’re staying home tomorrow. You’re not well enough to go to work.”
She rolled her eyes. “So you think.”
“So I know. I find you went to work and you’ll be in trouble.” He didn’t make threats he didn’t mean. But even he knew he didn’t have much right to punish her.
You could . . . if you claimed her.
Fuck. Someone like Aston wouldn’t be right for him. She was too sweet and innocent. She deserved her normal life.
Not to get messed up in his shit.
It wouldn’t be fair to her.
“What are you going to do?” she challenged.
“I’ll think of something. You’ve been warned. Now, give me your phone number so I can put it in my phone.”
He deliberately didn’t ask. He’d learned a long time ago that you didn’t get what you wanted in life by asking. Maybe that made him an asshole in some people’s eyes, but he didn’t care.
She eyed him.
“Friends share their phone numbers, don’t they? And that’s what we are, right?”
“Are we? Because I’m pretty sure that friends don’t threaten their friends.”
“Course they do. If their friend is being an idiot, they’ll do what they need to in order to put them on the right path.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
“No comeback, Rainbow?”
“There are so many things wrong with that statement. I don’t even know where to start. Right path.” She snorted.
“Phone number, Aston. I’m not leaving without it.” And he’d be checking that she gave him the correct number. She was a tricky little thing.
She reluctantly gave him her number. He texted her a message and heard her phone beep. Good.