Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Christian’s lips twitch. “Dirty Taco guac. Is anyone ever going to tell Hortensia how filthy the name of her restaurant makes everything on the menu sound?”
I shake my head listlessly. “No. Never. And I wouldn’t want them to. I want to keep adding to my ‘eat dirty tacos, live the good life’ Dirty Taco t-shirt collection for the rest of my life. The D.T. is a bright spot of hilarity in the barren landscape of my miserable, Kyle-free life.”
His brow furrows sympathetically. “He’ll come back. He adores you.”
“Unless he’s been shot,” I say, a lump forming in my throat. “Autumn wild turkey season started last weekend. Wren texted to remind me to be extra vigilant from now until the end of the season. This is the absolute worst time for him to have escaped.”
“Come on,” Christian says, waving me toward the couch. “Get over here. You need skunk snuggles. Skunk snuggles make everything better.”
Rising slowly from my chair, I shuffle over to where Christian and Bella are cuddled under my big fleece blanket. Bella looks up at me and lets out a sweet little chirp that has me fighting tears again. “She’s such a good girl. I’m so glad you saved her. I hope you guys live happily ever after and she’s still giving you love licks ten years from now. Skunks only live a few years in the wild but can live as many as fifteen years in captivity. And she was only two when she was turned into the shelter.”
“I know,” Christian says, gently covering me with the blanket as I sink down beside them. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, cuddling me close to his side. “I did my research after Bella and I got home that first night. I wanted to be sure I knew what I was in for.”
I glance over at him, a little surprised. “And you still kept her? I thought you were afraid of long-term commitment.”
“It’s different with the right girl,” he says. Before I can think of how to respond to that, he adds, “Is it okay if we sleep over? I have extra clothes and a toothbrush in my gym bag in the truck. I figure we’ll be ready to head out and look for Kyle faster in the morning if I’m already here.”
I nod, more touched than I can express. “Yeah. That would be great. It would be hard to be alone right now.”
“You’re not alone,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We’re here for you, Baxter.”
As if seconding her dad’s sentiment, Bella roots into the covers between us, snuffling and wriggling until she finds a cozy spot and relaxes with a sigh of contentment.
We sit that way for a long time, with Christian’s arm around me and Bella’s warm weight between us and the television flickering in the dim living room light and it is…right. As right as things can be without Kyle here, anyway.
And later, after Bella’s gone on a walkabout to explore the rest of her new territory—skunks are nocturnal, after all—Christian and I get ready for bed together. He starts toward the guest room, but I take his hand and lead him to the master. Without a word, we get under the covers together and he holds me.
Just holds me.
And I realize that there’s something even more dangerous than amazing sex with the hottest man I’ve ever met.
There’s…this.
There’s support and kindness and gentle caring that feels so much like love I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep things casual.
Lying there with Chris, matching my breath to his, trying to memorize his smell and the feel of his arm around me, I have no idea how quickly and drastically our lives are about to change.
Or how soon I’ll wish for “casual” with every fiber of my being.
Chapter Eighteen
From the texts of Christian McGuire
and Matty McGuire
11:15 p.m. Monday Night
MATTY: Christian? Are you up? Chris? I need you to get back to me right away. We have a problem. A very SERIOUS problem. Call me. Now.
Five minutes later…
MATTY: Christian! Dude. Now is not the time to stop answering your texts. Please, call me as soon as you get this. I’m not kidding. I need to talk to you ASAP.
Three minutes later…
VOICEMAIL MESSAGE FROM MATTY MCGUIRE: Christian, pick up. Pick up, man. Fuck. This isn’t the kind of thing I want to leave in a voicemail. *indistinct muttering* *soft cursing* We have a serious situation on our hands, Chris, and by “we,” I mean you.
It’s bad, Chris.
Really bad.
It’s too late to put the genie back in the bottle, but we can at least get ready to run damage control when the shit hits the fan tomorrow. Mom’s going to lose it. Barrett, too. Fuck, he’s really going to lose it. He’s so protective of Starling. We might have to put you in the witness protection program or something until the worst blows over.