Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
I eye them skeptically. They look like the same fucking color to me.
"They're hiking boots, Deacon. They're just fashionable hiking boots," she says, patting me on the chest as she hops down from her stool and sails past me out the front door. "Not everything has to be Paul Bunyan chic like that shirt of yours."
"What's wrong with my shirt?" I growl, glancing at Tyr.
He looks at me, huffs, and then follows her after her. The traitor.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, convinced this is going to be the longest goddamn hike I've ever been on in my life. Cordelia's been in an odd mood all morning. She's stressed out and trying like hell to hide it behind false bravado and boundless cheer. I see right through her, though. She didn't sleep a wink last night.
I know because I didn't either. My cock ached like a motherfucker all night, keeping me wide awake. I kept thinking about the fact that the only thing separating us was her closed bedroom door. I thought about charging in there at least fifty-four different times to finish what she started in the living room.
But she doesn't belong out here. And I'm not so sure I'd be able to let her go if I got her in my bed. I'd fight like hell to keep her. I'm already pissed I have to let her go in two weeks. But this isn't any kind of life for a girl like her, especially not when just being out here has her ready to crawl out of her skin.
She might want to grab the bull by the horns to conquer her fear, but out here, the bull fights backs. She's lucky she survived when she was a kid. People get lost and die in the Pacific Northwest all the time. Between miles of woodlands hiding dangers like steep cliffs and sheer drop-offs and the frigid temperatures at night, there's also the incessant rain that cause mudslides and sinks. And then there are the bears, mountain lions, and any number of other wild animals. And the fires that sweep through, consuming everything in their path.
I can't ask her to live in a cabin in the middle of it with me, facing those risks every day. She belongs in the city. It's a helluva lot safer for her there. Or so I keep telling myself. But she marched her gorgeous ass out here, determined to face her past, just because she got drunk and decided it was time. Is she really safer in the city? Alone? Where any motherfucker with bad intentions could get to her? Hurt her?
A growl rumbles in my chest at the thought.
Hell no, she isn't.
She's a statistic waiting to happen. Or a trainwreck. Either one is just as likely because she's a hot damn mess to boot. But I want her to be my hot mess, dammit all to hell. Which means I need to figure out what the fuck I'm going to do about that because the clock is ticking.
I've got two weeks to sort out my shit. Two weeks to figure out how to make this girl mine and rejoin society. When she leaves here, I intend to go with her. It's the only logical option. At least it's the only one I can live with, because she deserves more than a cabin in the woods and a lifetime of anxiety.
She deserves more than my crabby ass…but she's getting me anyway.
Ready or not, Sunshine. Ready or not.
"Oh!" she squeaks an hour later, smacking her phone up against the window. "Signal!" The damn phone proceeds to rattle and ding like she's the fucking president and we're under attack.
"Good God, Sunshine," I mutter. "How many fucking calls do you get a day?"
"Those are texts," she says. "My besties are all on missions. It requires a lot of communication."
"They're in the military?"
"No. They're facing their fears too. We made a pact. It's a whole thing." She scrolls through her messages, muttering under breath at some. One makes her cackle.
"Please tell me they aren't in the mountains too."
"What? Oh, no. For some reason, half of them are stripping down in front of other people." She turns wide eyes on me and then giggles. "I guess the wind got that part out of the way for me yesterday. Peyton is saving the forest. You'd like her. And I don't know what Cleary is doing."
"Jesus," I mutter, shaking my head. I'm guessing they were all drunk when they made this pact. I'm almost afraid to ask who the ringleader was. I have a sneaking suspicion the responsibility party is sitting beside me, scrolling through messages on her phone like her life depends on it.
"Holy Babe the Blue Ox!" she shouts. "Cleary is Anita Dix!"
"What?" I try not to choke on my own tongue. Did she just say clearly, she needs a dick? Because I've got nine inches ready and willing…