Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
It was only as we were pulling up in front of Sam’s house that my dad dropped a bomb.
“That’s because I threatened action of my own,” he said. “I may not be a big-time movie star, but I fucking know people. If he ever wants to find a bodyguard again, he’ll drop it.”
The moment we got off the bike in front of Sam’s place, I turned to my father with my hands on my hips. “You didn’t, like, threaten to kill him or anything, did you?”
Dad’s eyes lit with fire, and his mouth turned up at the edges.
“I’m fairly sure,” Cheyenne, my brother’s wife, said as she came toward us, “that your father probably did just about the same thing that Sam did. Just look at it this way, you don’t have to worry about that man. Ever.”
I sighed and shook my head.
“I don’t even know what to say.” I sighed, watching my father disappear into the house. “I was going to handle it!”
Cheyenne threw her arm around me and pulled me into her side. “I made cookies.”
I grimaced. “I can’t have cookies.”
When I was seven, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. Meaning, my entire life, I’ve been fighting to keep my blood sugar in check.
Any deviation in my diet, no matter how small, could be disastrous for me.
The other day with the donuts had been my one indulgence of the week, and I hadn’t even gotten more than a couple of bites.
Though, I’d gotten something much sweeter…
“What’s that smirk on your face for?” Cheyenne asked as we walked toward the front door. “And I know that you’re not allowed to have cookies. They’re special cookies. Ones with protein, fake sugar, and they taste pretty darn good if I do say so myself.”
I grinned.
I loved my sister-in-law.
Though, since I was the same age as her daughters, I tended to see her more like an aunt.
“I…” I looked to see if anybody was around me. “I met someone.”
Her brows rose as she led me into the kitchen where there were, indeed, cookies.
I picked one up and eyed it.
“You met someone,” Cheyenne said casually. “Who might this someone be?”
Before I could answer, both Dad and Sam walked into the room.
“What’s this about meeting someone?” Sam asked, looking from me to his wife and back.
I opened my mouth to lie, but nothing came out.
For the first time in my life, words failed me.
Well, words didn’t fail to come out of my mouth. Just ones that didn’t sound as if I was trying to hide something.
“So whose dog was that in the forecourt as we drove in?” I blurted.
When nobody answered, specifically not my brother, I chose that moment to steal a cookie and run.
It was not a good idea to get my father and brothers interested in someone I was dating.
They ruined every single relationship that I’d ever tried to have before I’d even had it.
Trust me when I say, the males in my life were shit heads.
Spotting the dog still where he’d been when we’d arrived, I took off at a slow jog in the dog’s direction, anxious to get away from my current predicament before it could come back and bite me in the ass.
“Ohh, aren’t you just the cutest thing ever?” I cried as I dropped down, ass to calves, and reached for the cutest thing I’d ever seen on four legs. “Yes, you are. Oh my God. I just want to take you home and love you forever. I’ll bet nobody will notice that you’re gone.”
A heartbeat passed, then a deep, very familiar, very sexy voice said, “I’d notice.”
I closed my eyes as recognition hit.
Then two things happened.
One, I looked up into Adam’s eyes to see him smiling down at me.
Two, my father and brother joined us.
Chapter 8
It’s time to start living. That means eating ice cream in the morning for breakfast, and cookies for lunch. You can save that salad for a rainy day.
-Adam’s secret thoughts
Adam
“Mom,” I said as I pushed my mother’s hand away from the cut on my face. “It’s okay.”
“I know it’s okay. I put the stitches in,” Mom said. “I just wanted to make sure there was no swelling.”
My mother was a paramedic. She was also a mother. A very protective one at that.
When one of her babies were hurt, she damn well protected them with everything she had.
Two things that didn’t go well together when you were damn good at banging yourself up from time to time.
Like today.
I’d cut myself while splitting wood with my dad.
I’d been chopping an oak log up with my ax when a piece of wood popped back and slammed into my chin.
Now I was sporting three stitches thanks to my mom.
“I’m okay.” I pulled away as I picked up my ax again. “Where’s Dad?”
“He went to get a beer and speak with Sam,” Mom said. “Something about hearing an exhaust leak on Sam’s younger sister’s car.”