Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“A drunk driver crossed the centerline.” Her eyes fill with tears. “They were going to the movies, and I wanted to go. I begged my mom, and she told me to ask my dad. Normally, he let me have whatever I wanted. But for some reason that night, he got a funny look on his face and insisted that I stay home. I think…maybe he had a premonition, but he didn’t want to worry my mom. He even took a different route to the theater that night.”
I squeeze her tight and press kisses to her temple. “I’m sorry, kitten. I’m sorry you lost him.”
“What about you? Are your parents still alive?” She sounds hopeful, and I wish I had a big, loving family to give her.
“My father passed away while I was in prison.” I’m careful to keep my tone neutral. No sense in bringing up the past anyway. Sure, my childhood was rough. But it was what it was.
She makes a sympathetic noise and says, “Well, what about your mom? Did she live long enough to see you become successful with your company?”
“Don’t know. She ducked out when I was eight, I haven’t heard a word from her since.” I’d never admit this out loud, but some part of me thought that when I made the first million, my mom would show up. She’d be proud of the life I’d made for myself, the success I became.
Of course, she never did. She’s never been interested enough to look me up since walking away all those years ago.
“She just left you?” Hurt is in Gabby’s voice, as if it’s something that happened to her.
I don’t think anyone has ever cared what happened to me, and the fact that Gabby does makes something in my chest go tight. “I was a troublemaker even when I was young. Had a mean streak a mile wide. I guess, one day she got tired of dealing with that and my father’s drunkenness.”
“You didn’t deserve to be left,” she insists.
I disagree, but it doesn’t matter anyway. My past is over, and I have a beautiful future to look forward to with Gabby. “What are some of your favorite memories with your parents?”
A soft smile lights up her face. “Being at the garage. I remember coming home from school and going there every afternoon to hang out with my parents. My dad tried to keep me in the office area, doing mindless paperwork. He always worried I get hurt around the cars or the tools. But not my mom. She lived for this stuff. She’d often seek me out to help her work on cars.”
Gabby laughs. “I doubt I was that helpful, passing her tools felt like I was essential to the process. My mom used to say there’s oil in our veins. I think she was right because I can’t imagine walking away from the shop.”
She glances at me then. “I won’t quit it, not even once we’re married.”
“Agreed,” I say easily. While I might want Gabby to be my little housewife, that doesn’t mean I have plans to keep her locked up in my cabin. I want her to do the things that light her up and bring joy to her soul.
She’ll spend her days working on cars and her nights in my bed, receiving endless orgasms. I put a hand on her stomach. “But the moment you’re pregnant, this is all up for renegotiation. I won’t have you hurt yourself.”
She puts her hand over the top of mine so casually. “It might sound crazy because we haven’t even been in this cabin for twenty-four hours. We barely know each other, but I hope we made a little life together.”
I give her a deep, lingering kiss. “We know each other, kitten. We’ve always known each other’s souls. Now we’re in the right place at the right time together to start a little family.”
7
GABBY
“You’re spoiling me,” I tell Roman as I ease back into the deep bathtub. The suds are covering me, the warmth seeping deep into my bones. We’ve spent the past three days making love on every available surface in Roman’s cabin, and I wouldn’t change a thing. But he insists on making me soak at least once a day to keep me from getting sore.
Roman is on the floor beside the tub. There’s no way we’ll both fit in his tiny bathtub, not with his big frame.
“I’m your husband. It’s my job to spoil you,” he insists. He’s washing me and making me feel more cared for than I ever have been in my entire life.
“Not quite yet,” I tease.
He mutters something about the damn storm and the loofah slips. He fondles my breasts, and I arch into his touch.
His eyes darken when I moan, and he makes a little grunt in the back of his throat. I love the noises that he makes, masculine and primal. I love the way he’s so big, and he insists on taking care of me. The last three days have been the best of my life. I’m in love with this bearded mountain man.