Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I smiled, feeling a sense of peace at his words.
I hadn’t been to the gas station alone since the day that I’d been hurt.
Then again, I had a feeling I never would again.
Even now, three years later, I couldn’t scrounge up the courage to go on my own. And Quaid couldn’t let loose enough to allow me to do it myself.
It wasn’t the most convenient of things for us to do—him always pumping my gas—but it worked for us. It made him feel better, and it made me feel safe.
It was a win-win situation in my book.
A lot of things had changed since the worst had happened to me, but one thing was still very much the same.
I loved Quaid, and he cherished the ground I walked on.
Today was a much-deserved day off.
I had nothing at all planned today but lunch with the Carter women, and a whole bunch of nothing else.
But since I knew he needed gas in his own cruiser and wouldn’t be able to muddle around town without getting it first, I set off getting myself and our son ready to leave the house.
After picking up a coffee for both Quaid and me, and a small cup of whipped cream for our baby boy, Cam, I texted that I was heading toward our favorite gas station on the corner of the road that led to our house.
I waited patiently in my car for my knight in shining armor to arrive.
It took him two minutes before I saw the sleek black of his police cruiser pull up.
Seconds later he was pulling in behind me, and I was staring at Hot Cop as he walked up behind my car, and to the pump.
I rolled my window down as he slipped the nozzle into my gas tank.
“How much for the service, Officer?”
He twisted his face so that his mirrored aviators caught my gaze and said, “You can’t afford me, Calamity.”
I giggled.
“Daddy!”
I glanced in my rearview mirror at my son.
My three-year-old son who acted exactly like the Carter man he was spawned from.
I rolled down Cam’s window so Quaid could see him.
“Hey, buddy,” Quaid greeted our baby boy. Our soon to be eldest child. “I like your shirt.”
I glanced down at the shirt that read ‘Future Police Officer.’
“You can’t wear it,” our three-year-old declared.
Quaid shook his head. “I didn’t ask to wear it.”
“Because you’re too fat,” Cam spoke like Quaid hadn’t said a word.
Quaid shook his head. “I didn’t ask!”
Cam shrugged. “Even if you weren’t too fat for it, I wouldn’t let you wear it. Grandma got it for me.”
I covered my mouth with my hand and tried to keep the giggles at bay but failed.
My door was opened, and then there was my husband, glaring at me.
“You’re not fat, Hot Cop,” I told him.
He pulled his aviators off and put them on the dash of our brand-new Suburban.
A purchase that happened once a year now since he’d made me get rid of my Corolla after we’d found out that I was pregnant with Cam.
“I have gained a bit of weight,” he admitted.
He’d gained a small amount. All of ten pounds at most. And that happened with my first. It was like his body decided to go into sympathy mode with each baby we had together. Though he lost it a hell of a lot faster than I did after the baby arrived.
His seemed to melt off. Meanwhile, I was still ten pounds overweight from my last pregnancy, and I was pushing thirty-five pounds gained with this one, with no apparent end in sight.
“You gained very little weight compared to me,” I patted my distended belly.
It was so big now that I had to sit farther back and tilt the steering wheel way up.
Oh, the joys of being pregnant with twins.
Goddamn the Carter family genes.
I would’ve been so much more comfortable growing one baby instead of two…
He leaned in until his arms were resting on the ledge of my window. “Why do I like you so much, Calamity?”
I flipped my hair and said, “It’s totally my winning personality.”
The gas pump clicked, and he pushed off the door to replace the nozzle.
When he came back, it was to stop at Cam’s window first and say, “Want Chick-Fil-A, buddy?”
“No,” he denied. “I want burgers.”
Quaid shook his head, swept his beautiful hair off his forehead, and said, “Of course you do.”
When he came back to my window, he said, “What’s your plan today, Calamity?”
I beamed. “We’re meeting the Carter girls for lunch. Then we’re going to the bookstore for story time. Then we’re going to buy new bathing suits for our baby moon.”
His lips turned up into a leer. “A bikini?”
I scoffed. “Absolutely not.”
“Come on, baby.” He leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth away from mine. “For me?”
I groaned. “Shit.”
“Shit!” Cam cried out.
Quaid shook his head, pushed forward, then kissed me on the lips.