Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“No.”
Silence follows. I close my eyes and put the empty wine glass down. The water’s warm and I let it wrap around me as I try to quiet my creaking brain, but my thoughts spin and spin like an old loom, turning itself in circles, tying my emotions into knots.
I left my family. They were already dead to me in a sense—but to lose them like this, so brutally and suddenly, it’s hitting me harder than I ever would’ve guessed. Iain’s still alive, but that feels so tenuous.
Then there’s Carson and his obsessive need to keep me safe, whatever that entails.
I don’t know why he cares. Carson hasn’t spoken to me in a decade, allegedly because that was my wish, but personally, I think that’s bullshit.
Carson doesn’t care about me because I’m a speck on his windshield. I’m nothing to him, barely a bug. So why he keeps coming back, over and over, only for me to tell him to fuck off, I don’t understand it.
I nearly doze off. But I catch myself before I can slip under.
“Don’t fall asleep.”
I yelp at the sound of Carson’s voice. “You’re still out there?”
“Nearly passed out myself.” He grunts quietly. I realize he must be leaning against the door. “I’ve been thinking about you for years, you know. Maybe you find that strange. I can’t blame you if you do.”
“I do,” I admit.
He doesn’t seem deterred. “You’re the best of them, you know. Beautiful, clever.”
“Oh, now you’re talking.”
“Stubborn. Mouthy. Selfish.”
“Losing me.”
“Generous and caring. Not many people would’ve taken on Bottle of Smoke the way you did and managed to keep it going.”
I smile to myself. “I had help.”
“That’s another thing. You see good in people. You find diamonds in the rough and draw them to you. That little family you built? It’s impressive. Your very own crew.”
I snort, shaking my head. “Not a crew. Just employees.”
“Same thing. I’ve always been fascinated by you, Ash. All these years.”
“You’re talking like you’ve held a torch for me or something. Are you obsessed, Carson?” I smile to myself. The idea of a Crowley, obsessed with me, is the best joke I’ve heard in forever.
But he doesn’t reply right away. I almost forget about him until his voice yanks me from sleep. “You should get out.”
“You’d like that,” I murmur. “Trying to get me naked, I bet. Are you going to peep?”
“I do want you naked, but I don’t plan on violating your trust.”
“Trust? There’s no trust here.” I sigh and pull the drain plug. “Keep the door shut.”
He grunts his assent. I get out, dripping on the mat, and dry myself roughly. I hesitate but decide to floss and brush now. When I’m done, I wrap the towel around myself tightly, annoyed that I didn’t think to bring a change of clothes, and step into the hall.
Carson’s sitting on the floor. He looks up at me, staring with his mouth open. Burning like a wildfire. “Hello, Ash.”
“Don’t hello me.” I step over him and go into my room. If my vagina could scream, it’d be begging me to invite him in. “You can have the futon. You look exhausted.”
His eyes haunt me as I glance over my shoulder. He’s staring, not moving. A massive man in an expensive suit, slumped down on my floor. “I’d prefer sleeping in that bed with you.”
“And I’d prefer a gun and a guard dog. Instead, I’ve got you. Are you staying over or what?”
“I’m staying. I wouldn’t leave you for anything.”
“That’s an extremely weird thing to say, Carson.”
“Goodnight, Ash. You look beautiful like that.”
“In nothing but a towel? I bet.” I try not to blush, but it’s impossible. Damn Irish pale skin. “Go to sleep.”
“Sweet dreams.”
He doesn’t move as I close my door. I hesitate—then turn the handle’s lock.
I swear he laughs as I quickly pull on sleep clothes and crawl into bed.
Chapter 10
Ash
I wake to the smell of coffee.
It’s actually kind of nice. For a few seconds, I lie there staring at the ceiling. None of my problems have resolved in my brain yet. I smile to myself, shimmying slightly, digging down into the sheets, wondering what special gift I’ve given myself to have freshly brewed coffee ready to go first thing, until I realize who’s out there.
Then I sit bolt upright.
My door’s still closed. Nothing looks disturbed. Carson didn’t break in under the cover of darkness—not that I could tell anyway.
I get up, pull on some clothes, get myself together in the bathroom, then tentatively head out into the kitchen.
Carson’s leaning against the counter. An enormous brown paper bag’s sitting beside him as he stares at the coffee maker. He’s wearing his slacks and his dress shirt from the night before, the sleeves rolled up, the top two buttons undone to show off his muscular chest. I stare at him, hardly believing that a man like that could be standing in my dingy kitchen, but there he is. He looks totally out of place, like a classical Greek statue transported from Athens and plopped on my freaking linoleum.