Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
When I’d gone up there a couple of weeks ago to have my mail forwarded to my new address, I’d had to stand in line for quite some time because the mail attendant loved to talk.
And when I say loved to talk, I meant he loved to talk. Young, old, female, male. It didn’t make a difference.
The man spoke to everyone as if they were his long-lost friend, and I had never really understood the point of making small talk.
Which meant that by the time I’d arrived at the counter, the man had pissed me off so badly that I’d been short with him.
The two other times that I’d gone to drop off packages, he’d been manning the front counter as well, and didn’t quite take the hint that I wasn’t interested in talking to him for long lengths of time.
“Hello?” I answered, shaking my head at the thought of doing anything that would require me to go anywhere near that place.
“How did it go?”
I grinned at Beckham’s words.
“I am now officially unemployed,” I drawled.
“Actually, you’re not. You’re officially employed here as of twenty minutes ago,” she said. “I made an executive decision to have you at my office and not at the office with your man. I decided he got to see you during the mornings and evenings. I’ll get you during the day.”
I grinned.
“I’ll let you duke that out with him, then,” I said as I watched the mail lady slowly putz down the road toward my box.
She’d pulled over halfway to check something on her phone, then started to slowly creep toward me while her eyes continued to stay on her phone.
“I actually already told him this morning,” Beckham said. “I seriously think he was disappointed. He looked at me as if I was stealing his candy.”
I snickered. “Maybe you are.”
She groaned. “I don’t know about this side of you, Blaise. You’ve turned into a sex monster.”
I gasped. “I have not.”
“Well, what the hell else would you mean by that?” she asked.
I sighed. “I have to go get my mail. Stay on the line. I have a bone to pick with you.”
She giggled and did as I asked.
When the mail lady finally got to my mailbox, she overshot it because again she was still mostly looking at her phone and not where she was going.
When she finally did notice, she slammed on her brakes and cursed up a blue streak.
I waited patiently by the box for her to get her shit together.
Once she’d backed up, she could now see me standing beside the box.
She froze, staring at me in surprise.
I wasn’t sure if it was because she was surprised to see me standing there, or if it was because she recognized me.
“Mackenzie,” she glowered.
I crossed my arms over my chest and glowered right back.
“Drill Sergeant Ames,” I replied.
Her eye twitched. “I’m not a drill sergeant anymore. I’m a humble mail carrier.”
Humble my ass.
She also sucked at it.
I held out my hand and waited for her to do her job, which, apparently, she didn’t feel like doing all that quickly.
Sadly, she felt like talking.
“When did you move here?” she asked curiously, all but unbuckling her belt and turning in her seat so that she could stare at me.
“I’ve been here for about two months now.” I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared.
“I just would’ve thought that you wouldn’t be in our town, that’s all.” She shrugged.
I was almost scared to ask.
“Our town?” I felt my fingers clench into fists.
I was beginning to think that I wasn’t going to like her answer.
“You didn’t know?” She grinned then, looking as if she was the cat that finally caught the canary. “My husband and I made this our hometown three years ago.”
A sinking feeling started to fill my stomach at her words.
“Your husband?” I repeated.
She looked almost giddy when she said, “Jaycen Brees and I got married after Absinthe Solomon tried to break him. We’ve been happily married now for the last four and a half years. We even have a little girl.”
My stomach soured at the thought.
If anyone on the planet deserved not to be a parent, it was Jaycen Brees.
That poor, poor kid.
“Fascinating,” I said, “but my best friend is on the line with me in my truck, and I’d really like my mail now. I’ve been waiting for a package all week.”
I hadn’t.
I just wanted her to give me my shit so I could fucking go.
Goddammit, this was a nightmare.
Out of all the places, how the hell would they wind up here?
Shit, Sin was going to flip his fucking lid.
He only thought that he didn’t like me working at the prison because it was dangerous.
But having Jaycen Brees anywhere near me?
That was going to really, really piss Sin off.
And my father.
Oh, and my grandfather, too.