Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 155037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 775(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 517(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 775(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 517(@300wpm)
“I carry my life in my handbag,” she told him solemnly.
He grunted and started up his truck, moving smoothly onto the road. She closed her eyes but immediately felt dizzy so she opened them again.
“Why would someone drive like that?” she whispered. “He could have killed me.”
“Fucking idiot. You need a dashcam.”
“Yeah. Maybe. I’ll talk to Loki.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Why?” she repeated. “Oh, why talk to Loki? He handles that kind of stuff for me.”
There was a weighted silence.
“Oh, I need to tell you where I live.” Damn it, why wouldn’t her brain work properly?
“Know where you live.”
“You do?” Why would he know where she lived?
Probably because he watches you all the time.
Should she be afraid of him? More than likely. But her radar on what should frighten her had always been a bit off.
What scared her the most wasn’t even something she could see or fight.
She was totally screwed up.
“You’re close,” he said. “The two of you.”
“Very.”
“Like brother and sister?” he asked.
“Here’s the driveway,” she said instead. She didn’t want to answer that, because she didn’t know quite what to say.
Did she love Loki in the same way she did her brothers?
No.
Loki was her life. She loved him beyond words. Those years while he was in the armed forces were the toughest of her life. Yes, she’d had her amazing friends, but it was as though a big part of her was missing.
Then when he’d come back . . . he’d been so different. He was Loki. Wild and crazy. Unpredictable. Sometimes fun.
But in there was her Lachie. Thoughtful. Kind. And so, she loved both parts of him.
Unrequited love sucked.
“Why are there no lights on?” he asked as he parked.
“Oh, Loki isn’t here.”
“You shouldn’t tell me that.”
“Huh? Why not?” she asked.
“Because I’m a strange man.”
“Yeah. You are a little different. You don’t talk much. In fact, I’ve rarely seen you talk to anyone. But you’re always at the Wishing Well. You don’t have a drinking problem, do you?”
“No. Might develop one, though.”
“Why would you want to develop one?” she asked.
“I don’t. But I might need a drink to try and give me some patience.”
She was so confused. She rubbed her forehead, wishing her headache would go away.
“You shouldn’t tell people you don’t know very well that you’re home alone.”
“Why?”
“Because they might hurt you.”
“Wow. That’s a really negative way to think. Do you always think the worst of people?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t.”
“I know,” he replied. “That’s why you need watching.”
She bit her lip. “You’re not going to hurt me, though.”
“No. I won’t. Unless you want me to.” He got out of the truck before she could ask him what he meant by that. She undid the seatbelt and grabbed her handbag.
He opened the passenger door before reaching in and lifting her up against his chest.
She sucked in a breath. “I can walk.”
No reply. He used his hip to shut the truck door and carried her to the front door.
“Need a security light.”
“There is one,” she said. “I don’t know why it’s not coming on.”
“I’ll check it.”
“You really don’t have to do that,” she told him as she grabbed her keys from her handbag. “And you can seriously put me down. I’m fine now.”
No reply again.
It seemed to be a common theme. “You don’t like to talk much, huh?”
“I talk,” he replied as he took the keys and unlocked the door. Opening it, he walked in. “But sometimes what you say doesn’t require an answer.”
“I think I take offense to that,” she said, glancing up at him. Did he just smile?
Nah. That was impossible, right?
He walked inside like he owned the place and set her down on the sofa.
Then he frowned as he stared down at her.
“What is it? Is there something on my face? Is it my hair? I was just in a car accident, I’m bound to look like a mess.”
“You could never look like a mess.”
Isa gaped up at him. “I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me. I mean, I can totally look like a mess. I’m sure I do right now.” She brushed her hands over her hair. She should go check in the mirror.
Sliding her legs around to the edge of the sofa, she attempted to stand, only for her legs to give out on her. She landed back on the couch with an oomph and a groan as her body let her know it didn’t appreciate her moving.
“What are you doing? Stay still.”
“Yeah. I think I might just do that.” She was going to be so sore. And she had a zillion cupcakes to make tomorrow.
How was she meant to do that now?
Suddenly, everything was piling up on her.
“Big girls don’t cry. Big girls don’t cry.”
He crouched in front of her, giving her a curious look. “Look at me.”
The command in his voice was hard to ignore. Isa glanced up at him.