Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
He opens the door, and I’m immediately presented with a large glass display case of assorted pies and pastries. “I’m starving.”
The bell on the door jingles as we walk in, the scent of warm coffee and fried food greeting us. The only person here is an older woman with graying hair and glasses wearing a frilly apron. She’s holding her phone at arm’s distance, pecking at something on the screen, her tongue sticking out of her mouth.
“Welcome,” she says warmly, placing her phone in her apron pocket.
Her eyes go wide as saucers when he enters behind me. I look over my shoulder and try to see him the way she does—scary, badass, and dangerous. “Have a seat. You have your choice of the place. Anywhere you like, hon.” I can tell this isn’t something she offers just anyone, as only the first four tables are set. There are benefits to being with Ollie.
I draw closer to him. I fully intend on enjoying said benefits.
He leads us to a booth near the back, away from the windows and close to the kitchen. Of course he needs to be able to have a good vantage point.
I can’t help but notice the way the red vinyl squeaks under Ollie’s weight. I fit here just fine, but even though Ollie isn’t quite as enormous as the others in his family, he still dwarfs this place. The table between us is small. When our knees brush under it, it sends a spark of something down my spine I can’t ignore. He picks up the sticky menu, scanning it with a look of utter concentration.
I stifle a giggle.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.
“Nothing, just… I’ve seen you take down a man twice your size without flinching, and here you are, staring down this little menu like it’s a life-or-death decision…”
“Food is a life-or-death decision, Renata,” he says seriously, though his lips twitch.
“Is that so?” I say. There’s a lightness in my chest I haven’t felt in so long, it almost scares me. It feels dangerous and wonderful. “What might you recommend for someone who could be looking at her last meal?”
His eyes narrow playfully. It’s a welcome change from his usual stern demeanor. “The bacon cheeseburger followed by apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Anything else is just playing with fire. Too risky.”
I frown and shake my head with mock seriousness. “Definitely not the avocado toast and lemon meringue, then?”
His eyes go wide in mock horror. “Have you listened to a thing I said?”
The waitress sidles up to us, pad in hand. “We’re out of lemon meringue.”
My instincts flare, and I stare at her, surprised. She’s lying. Over pie? I bet if my hot-as-hell husband asked for it, she’d miraculously find some.
Hmph.
“Coffee?” she asks Ollie. “I’ll make a fresh pot, sir.”
Jesus. Gag me. I want to ask if she’d still be hot for him if she saw how easily those hands of his can wrap around a traitor’s neck. I’ve seen that in person, thank you very much, and can say with confidence it takes a special kind of person to learn to appreciate the nuances of brutality.
He shakes his head. “No, thank you, but my wife might want some.” He quirks a brow to me.
I shake my head.
My wife.
I’m not used to that. I swear the waitress’s face falls. “Ma’am?”
I shake my head. Ollie orders for both of us, which both annoys and pleases me. My chest tightens when he orders, “An ice-cold Diet Coke, extra ice with a wedge of lime, please.” Just how I like it.
There’s a hardness to him, yes, but there’s something more, something almost vulnerable in the way he quietly entwines his fingers with mine, tracing the oval shape of each nail with the pad of his thumb. I don’t miss the way his gaze flits to the door, windows, and restroom every now and again.
“Do you need to check in with Aleks?”
“Yeah.” He slides his finger over the screen of his phone and shrugs. “No updates.”
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. It’s easier to keep your eyes on a moving target.
“Thank you,” I finally say.
“For what?”
For protecting me. For listening when I need to talk. For being a rock-hard fortress that won’t let me down.
I shrug. “For ordering for me.”
“You like everything,” he says with a wistful look in his eyes. “You make it easy.”
“I make what easy?” I ask, my heart beating faster. I’m not sure why. I swallow hard.
“Everything.”
My heart seizes. I hold his gaze as I lean across the table. I want to kiss him.
“Me?” I whisper. “You sure you’re not talking about someone else?”
“No one else, Renata. Just you.”
Leaning forward, he holds my gaze. He’s utterly concentrated on my lips as if they hold magic. I swallow hard, the air between us charged with something electric. Magical. I’m not sure if it’s that we’re married now, we’ve escaped our hunters, or that we’re alone in this strange, timeless place in the middle of nowhere, but it feels like everything else fades away, and it’s… just us.