Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“Wow, that is easy.” Hollis lifted her spoon and licked it clean.
It made my dick harden completely in my pants—it’d been half-mast since she’d sat down next to me at dinner.
“It’s the best thing ever,” Mom agreed, eyes sparkling. “But I can’t take credit for it. We saw the Don’t Mix It lady make it on a video, and ever since then we’ve just been making easy desserts.”
An hour later, we were the second group to leave.
My phone rang, and everyone at the table groaned but one.
Poor Hollis had no clue what a ringing phone meant in the Carter household.
As long as I have a face, you have a seat.
—Quincy to Hollis
QUINCY
“Hello?” I answered, dreading what I would hear on the other line.
“We have a dead chick at the gas station on Twenty-ninth,” the operator, Athena Murphy, said without preamble.
I groaned. “Dammit, Athena.”
Just as I said that, Gable’s head snapped up, his eyes intense.
So Gable had a thing for Athena.
He wasn’t willing to admit it, so he just lived for tiny glances and snippets of conversations involving her.
“Sorry, boss,” Athena murmured quietly. “If I could send anyone else, I would.”
“10-4,” I murmured. “Thanks, darlin’.”
I hung up and immediately stood up.
“What…”
“Caught a call,” I said. “You ready?”
She stood up, gathering her plates.
My mom stopped her before she could take two steps into the kitchen. “Thanks, honey. I hope that your day was better.”
Hollis’s shoulders drooped. “You have no idea how much better it turned out to be. Thank you for the lasagna and the dessert.”
Then, surprising both my mom and me, she wrapped my mom up in a hug.
Mom wasn’t a huggy-touchy type person. The job had hardened her.
She hugged us, when we initiated the hug, but she didn’t necessarily do the reaching out and making the effort thing.
But she returned Hollis’s hug.
“Let the boys know if you need help with that computer. They all seem to know their way around them better than most,” Mom murmured as she let Hollis go.
Hollis grinned and said, “I’ll just bet they do.”
Offering my dad a handshake as I left, I said, “Golf tomorrow at eight, still?”
“You know it,” Dad confirmed.
We all tried to meet up once a week to play golf with him.
It wasn’t our favorite thing in the world to do, but Dad liked it, so we did what he liked.
Could we have more fun playing disc golf or shooting skeet? Yeah. But Dad didn’t. So, we sucked it up and went with him, three at a time. Dad loved it, and we had company to laugh at all the shitty shots that were taken in the four hours it took us to drink beer and play.
Sure, eight in the morning was early for beer, but the Carter men didn’t necessarily keep normal hours.
“Bye, darlin’!” my brothers called as I picked up Hollis’s new computer and we headed out.
“Bye!” she called right back, a beaming smile on her face.
That smile stayed as I helped her into the car, placed the computer in her lap, and rounded the hood.
It fell off when we got started back into town.
“Did someone die?” she asked.
“Someone died,” I confirmed.
“Bummer,” she murmured.
“Real bummer,” I agreed.
“What was that with Gable at hearing you say this Athena chick’s name?” she asked as we pulled out of my parents’ driveway.
I grinned wickedly. “Caught that, did ya?”
She scrunched up her nose. “Kind of hard not to when he whipped his head around and looked like he was hanging on your every word. So… what happened?”
“Gavrel, Athena’s brother, was Gable’s best friend and partner. He passed away in a traffic stop about a year and a half ago,” I explained. “I think he’s always had a thing for Athena, but him being best friends with Gavrel kept him from acting on it. Then he died, and Gable’s never gonna make that move now.”
“Wow,” she sighed. “That’s tragic.”
“It’s life,” I admitted. “Being a police officer is tough. Especially in a bigger town like Dallas. More crime per capita equals a larger chance that something could happen to you.”
I felt more than saw her turn and stare at me. “And you? Are you in danger?”
I did look at her then, only long enough to get a gauge of her face, before turning back to the road.
“Less so than most cops,” I admitted. “I get the violence after it’s already been committed for the most part.”
She studied my face for a long time, almost until we were at her apartment.
When I finally got out of traffic long enough to look over at her, it was to see her staring blankly at the instrument panel of my truck, frowning.
“Why the long face?” I asked.
She didn’t hesitate to answer.
“I don’t like the idea of you in danger,” she admitted.
I grinned then as I double parked in front of her apartment and got out.