Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
“No, but I’m looking for a place.”
“What are the chances we would see each other again?”
He just smiled and took a bite of his cone as we walked, trailing the kids who had already gobbled their cones up.
“Do you mind if I walk with you?” he asked as we got closer to the edge of the park. I was suddenly embarrassed. Our house wasn’t anything special. At least it’s not the trailer park, I told myself.
He was a stranger. I would usually be nervous if someone asked to walk me home. But he rescued you, my internal voice argued. He saved you.
“All right,” I said, wondering if I was out of my mind. “That would be nice.”
“Are you sure?” he asked with a frown. “You hesitated.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I meant it. That would be nice.”
And as we walked the half mile back to our house, it really was.
Chapter Three
Jaken
It felt so natural, so easy walking beside the most beautiful girl in the world.
Don’t fuck this up, I reminded myself. Let her lead the way home. You’re not supposed to know where she lives.
Coming off like a crazy stalker was not how I wanted to start this. She was wary, with good reason. I had to move slowly and carefully, the way you did when you wanted to catch a stray cat.
Not that this girl was a stray cat. A thoroughbred, maybe, if you were using earthbound creatures for comparison. But really, she was more like an angel.
I glanced down to make sure her feet were actually touching the ground.
“Pretty,” I said when I saw her house. The photo Trace gave me had been taken in winter. But it was summer now, and I could see the care she and the kids put into the front yard. The neighborhood was nothing special, but their house stood out. There were flowers along the front walk and neatly trimmed bushes under the windows, which sparkled, unsurprisingly. Her cleanliness and the rules she imposed on the kids were well documented in the file.
Miss Colleen ran a tight ship, of that I had no doubt.
“Want to come in?” Lana asked, shooting a nervous look at her sister. I bit back a smile. I could tell the little miss had a case of hero worship. It was adorable. The way the kids were chattering to me and showing off made me feel about ten feet tall.
“We are about to make dinner . . .” Colleen said, trailing off. I knew she didn’t date. I knew she had less of a clue how to handle what was happening between us than I did.
As a man, I knew what to do. For the first time in my life, I felt the need to win her over. Not as a prize, but as a reason for living. I had a reason to do more than simply survive. I wanted to thrive. For her.
But if I told her all that, she would run for the hills.
“I can help,” I offered, “or leave you to it.”
“Help! Help!” the kids shouted as Colleen bit her lip in indecision. Seeing her white teeth press into those juicy lips sent a bolt of pure lust through me. I had to leave or I would be in danger of pouncing on her.
Not yet, tiger. Hold your damned horses.
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Hey, Collie!”
Colleen glared at a pretty girl who ran up the path. Her sister Penny, I assumed. She was trailed by a group of four other college-age girls, all kissing Colleen and prancing inside the house. She wasn’t much older than them, but it was clear that they all looked up to her.
It was also clear that she now had more mouths to feed.
“Hey, how do you feel about pizza?” I offered, thinking she could use a break.
“PIZZA!” her little brother Jessie yelled. The kid didn’t seem to have an off button. I smiled. I liked the little guy.
“We uh . . .”
“I can go pick it up. I know a great place around here.”
All the guys went to Ma’s, an old Italian place run by a woman affectionately known as Ma to the Untouchables. I wasn’t even sure of her real name or the name of the joint. We all went there.
“I can’t ask you to feed all these maniacs,” she said wearily as four more kids ran out of the house. Clearly, her siblings were not sensitive to the fact that having friends over around dinnertime was putting stress on their sister’s sanity and her wallet.
“I like maniacs. And I hate eating alone,” I added, hoping to appeal to her nurturing side. I was right. That did it.
She smiled in relief. She’d clearly been looking for a reason to say yes.
“That would be great.”
“Any special requests?” I asked, trying not to fall into her huge blue eyes.