Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Here, let me help you.” Her stubborn side might want to say no, but she wants another bite more. I twist the pasta around her fork and lift it to her lips. “Open up.” She does, and I place the fork against her tongue. “What did you do today?” I ask, wrapping more spaghetti around her fork.
She chews and swallows. “Nothing exciting. Jenny came over for a bit, then Hannah. Hope you don’t mind. I also used your landline since I don’t have a phone. Called work to let them know I would be back in a couple days. Called a bunch of international numbers. Those are going to add up.”
I chuckle, placing another bite in her mouth. “I look forward to the bill. You sure you’re ready to go back to work?”
“Yep. I’ve run out of things to snoop through around here. Plus, I should be able to take these claws off by the end of the week, so I’ll be like seventy-five percent functional.”
I want to disagree with her, but I’m also enjoying us getting along, so I let it go. “Speaking of work, I kind of did something. . .”
Her brow perks. “What?”
“Well, it was in the heat of the moment. My job was on the line. I don’t normally jump on ambulances with the people I rescue, so I may have slipped and told my boss you were my girlfriend.”
Her eyes narrow at my confession. “Your girlfriend.”
I place another bite into her mouth so she can’t yell at me for the next part. “Yeah. And since your boss and my boss are married, it so happens news traveled, and now we have to go to dinner—which means we have to play the part.”
“What part is that exactly?” she asks, her mouth full of food.
“The one where you are head-over-heels in love with me, and I’m such a stallion, you can’t keep your hands off me.”
“They’re never going to believe it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s impossible to look at you that way. Even attempting it now, it’s like the same face someone would make when they’re constipated. Not believable.”
“Hmmm. . .” I offer her another bite. “Okay. How about you imagine the pleasure it would give you to stab my eyes out with this fork?”
Her eyes glimmer, and her lips curl into the sexiest smile. “Now, we’re talkin’.” She gazes at me, and I can’t deny it causes my chest to tighten. “Oh yeah, baby. Head over heels.” She moans. “Can’t contain myself. I’ll probably jump over the table.”
My chest rumbles. “Well, I hope you contain yourself. I’m up for a promotion next month and would prefer to have both eyes.”
Her eyes soften at my comment. “Ben, that’s great.”
“We’ll see if I get it. My girlfriend may be the deciding factor.” I get up and reach for my work bag. “Speaking of, I thought said girlfriend would need this so she can call me during the day and tell me how much she misses me. Or that she’s staring at my knife collection, fantasizing where to stab me.” I hand her the phone I picked up on my way to work.
“You got me a phone?” she asks, stunned.
“Yeah. It probably doesn’t have an international plan, so just keep racking up the minutes on my landline.” She stares at the phone as if I just gave her the most precious gift. My phone vibrates on the table, and I flip it over to see my mom calling. “I’m sorry. I gotta take this. Miss me while I’m gone.”
“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m going to shower. I’ll think of you while I rub myself—I mean, scrub myself.”
I grin from ear to ear. “Now, that is a beautiful image. Holler if you need more hands.” I get up, stepping outside on the balcony. “Hey, Mom.”
“He wanted you to play football, you know.”
I swipe my hand down my face. This again. Every year, as the anniversary approaches, she lays this guilt on me and makes me feel like I failed him. “I know he did, Mom.”
“He worked day and night to put you through college. And for what? For you to waste your life? He died so you could have a better life. He left me because—”
“He died doing his job. He took a risk, and it didn’t pan out—”
“Don’t you talk about him that way. You ungrateful brat. He’s probably rolling in his grave at your choices. Reckless choices,” she slurs. She’s drunk, but I’m not surprised. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’ve fought hard to let these insults roll off me. I’m not wasting my life. I’m making a difference and choosing to save lives. Just like he did. Not that she’ll ever see it that way.
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“I’m good at what I do. I wish you would see that.”