Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I wanted that with Audrey, but she had to want it just as badly as I did for anything between us to work.
And I felt that she still had some growing into her own self-confidence to do before she could get there with me.
So until that time happened, I would love her and shelter her. I would be the man that she needed me to be. But I would not be her husband yet.
Not until she told me she was ready.
“Sometimes I want to throat punch you,” she muttered darkly, returning her eyes to the road. “Does that count?”
I snorted in amusement.
“Yeah, that counts.” I paused. “But only after I piss you off so badly that you yell, scream and threaten that throat punch again. Until then, I’m going to be the best roommate you’ve ever had.”
“A roommate with benefits?” She started to chuckle. “Will you sneak into my room at night and have your dirty way with me, Mr. Dixie Warden Reject?”
I grinned widely. “Yeah, but you won’t be leaving my bed after we’re done.”
“Why is that?”
I turned my serious eyes back to the road, too.
“Because you won’t be able to feel your legs until morning.”
***
When Audrey had asked to do a ride along with me a few weeks ago, I’d thought that it’d be fun.
I’d thought that I’d do a couple of stops, let her see what my job entailed, and we’d go home.
What I hadn’t expected to happen was the biggest shootout in the history of the Alabama Highway Patrol to happen with her in my car. I hadn’t expected her to witness me getting shot. Not once, not twice, but four times.
As my eyes drifted closed, no more strength to hold them open, I realized that it was a good thing that she hadn’t moved in yet. That way she wouldn’t be out there in that big ol’ place all by herself.
Chapter 18
I hate it when I’m trying to eat a salad, it falls on the floor, and I have to eat tacos instead.
-Text from Audrey to Tobias
Audrey
His job was boring. I didn’t know how he did it every day.
Literally, every single second that I’d been sitting in his car had been the most boring of my life.
I’d even sat through some pretty boring shit during nursing school—such as evidence-based practice seminars that were eight hours long—and even that had some enlightening qualities about it—like lunch.
But this? Waiting for someone to speed? This took the cake.
I’d distracted myself by talking and talking, and talking some more. Though he’d answer my questions, I almost felt as if he was only replying because he thought I’d want him to reply, not because he actually wanted to reply, so I’d started to fall silent.
Now I understood why Leida had told me that her uncle was a stickler for the law. He was a different person right now, hyper aware of his surroundings, and sitting here at the bottom of a hill didn’t seem to affect him at all.
He actually seemed to like it!
After our conversation about my legs shaking and feeling hotter than I’d ever felt before, and when we got to the topic of my moving in, he’d gotten his first speeder.
It’d been a little old lady about the age of my grandmother had been when she’d died, and she had started crying when Tobias walked up to her car.
He hadn’t given her a ticket, though. Only a warning.
Sucker.
“If I was to, say, want to get out of a ticket, how would I go about doing that without showing my breasts?” I asked casually.
He looked over at me, those beautiful eyes shining with mirth.
“Are we talking me, or are we talking another officer that definitely is not me?” he countered. “And are we talking you in particular, or another individual who’s not a nurse?”
“What does being a nurse have to do with it?” I asked him.
He looked at me, grinning, and then turned his eyes back to the road.
His smile, paired with his uniform, was doing some uncomfortable things down below my navel, and I was seriously going to jump him the moment we walked through his door.
I literally might climb him like a tree the moment we pulled into his driveway.
“Cops don’t shit where they live. That means that most cops won’t knowingly issue a ticket to another officer or an officer’s wife. They also won’t issue a citation to a firefighter, paramedic, or a medical professional who might very well be providing treatment to them in the future.”
That made a whole hell of a lot of sense.
“So I should, what? Always have my badge hanging from my rearview mirror or something?” I questioned, seriously interested in knowing the answer.
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t just blurt out ‘I’m a nurse’ the moment he walks up, but yeah, him seeing your badge might help. I’m not saying it’s a sure fire way to get out of the ticket, but it’s damn sure going to make him hesitate.”