Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
“Perfect. I’ll be at Grady’s in a few minutes.”
“How fast are you driving?” I shake my head, knowing how long it takes to get out here from Dallas’ main drag.
“Why’s it matter?” he asks.
“Because you must be speeding! I don’t want you getting into trouble.”
“I know all the deputies. They won’t give me shit.”
I smile. “What about the highway patrols?”
“Tory, fuck. They won’t pull me over, either. Now stop talking crap and tell me you’re on the highway?”
“Almost.” I don’t turn on my blinker this time. Quinn will drive past this road on his way, so I ask, “Are you near the intersection?”
“I will be shortly.”
I slow enough to get on the highway.
“He’s right behind me now. Taking the corner onto the highway.”
“Okay. Chin up. Grady knows you’re on your way. He’s waiting in the parking lot.”
That makes me worry about his safety.
“Um, how long was that text you sent him? Sounds like you told him everything.”
“Can you see the bar?” he asks, ignoring my question.
“Nope, I haven’t topped the hill just yet.”
“You’ll be able to see it as soon as you do.”
“I know.” That’s why I said I hadn’t topped the hill, but no sense in pointing it out.
We’re both so keyed up it’s a miracle we can think. A double miracle, certainly, that I’m able to drive like this.
I glance at Owl, who stares at the mirror outside the passenger window like he also knows something’s very wrong.
“I can see the Purple Bobcat sign,” I tell Quinn a moment later.
“All right, slow down. Tell me if he brakes, too.”
I tap my brakes and turn on my blinker, then shut it off, knowing that would tell Polyphemus what I’m doing.
But before I can worry more, the Chevy changes lanes abruptly.
“He’s changing lanes. He’s...he’s passing me! Thank Gawd.”
“Perfect. Just pull into the lot. Can you see Grady?”
“I see someone standing next to a black truck. It looks like Grady, but I’m not there yet. He’s too far away. The Chevy just flew past the bar, by the way...”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a jiffy, Peach. Hang on.”
For him, I think I always will.
“I see Grady,” I say softly. “I’ll hang up now. See you soon. And thanks!”
“Don’t even, Peach. Don’t thank me,” he rumbles with an edge. “If anything ever happened to you, I’d...fuck. You know, Tory. I think you know.”
Suddenly I have a whole new reason to freeze up. The intense, ferocious, and adorably choked off way Quinn flipping Faulkner says he cares for me puts the whole car chase to shame.
Holy hell.
I wait until he says bye before hitting the end button and turning into the parking lot.
Then I brace for how obscenely hard I’m going to hug this man, and never, ever let go.
12
We’ve Goat Issues (Faulkner)
The relief that washes over me when my truck crests the hill and I see Tory’s trailer in the Purple Bobcat’s parking lot shreds me.
Son of a bitch.
She’s safe. She’s sound. She’s still in one gorgeous piece.
If the psycho following her had tried to run her off the road, there wouldn’t have been a damn thing I could’ve done.
I’m thankful as hell for small favors, even if it pricks up the hair on the back of my neck.
Somebody knew what they were doing, tailing my girl just enough to shake her up.
Wait.
My girl?
Shit.
I suck in a few gulps of air to anchor my nerves and try to get my head back in the right space.
Clearly, I’m the one who’s shook.
I ain’t thinking straight because it was too fucking close.
This can’t go on.
Can’t and won’t.
My original plan was to head for the dairy farm to check on her, but just as I’d been leaving town, Joyce Selleck called. I’d sent the video Tory took straight to Joyce’s lawyer this morning, after leaving Dean’s place.
I’d gone home then, to put out some feelers on Jean-Paul Delong.
William Selleck’s cheating ass on video—literally—was almost an afterthought.
The lady was mighty pleased with my work, though, and gave me a bigger paycheck than I expected.
Money I intend to split with Tory since those X-rated shots of Mr. Cheater were hers.
I turn into the parking lot, pull up next to Tory’s truck, and throw mine in park.
“Faulk, she’s fine,” Grady tells me under his breath as I race around the front of my truck to the door, pushing past him into the bar.
I have to see for myself.
The instant I see her, I’m glassed.
She’s parked on a barstool, looking drop-dead sexy as ever.
Being scared out of her wits does nothing to sand away her beauty.
I don’t even realize I’m standing there, gawking like a fool, until she pokes her head up and opens those lips I might die to taste again.
“Hey, Quinn,” she says, her smile wobbly. “Sorry for making such a fuss.”
“Don’t,” I growl, stepping forward, rapidly closing the space between us. “Don’t you even dare apologize. Not for doing the right thing.”