Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
He is a good fit to be their third when they need him.
To protect me even if he was once convinced, I was the enemy.
Hell, he’s even thanked me for backing my boyfriend’s decision to keep him on this detail because it’s the best as well as most lucrative gig he’s had in a while. It’s also revamped his love of the job that was apparently starting to fade.
I honestly don’t mind him keeping an eye on me while Blu and Slater are doing their shit. He gives me space to work without hovering. He never complains about my choice of TV. And while he cringes whenever he hears bands like The Killers or Taking Back Sunday, he never begs me to put in headphones. While I wouldn’t call our relationship a friendship, I can say we’re definitely headed to that data point now.
This unexpected confession is undeniable proof.
“I’m sure someday one will,” I warmly state, eyes locked onto his. “You just gotta stay open to it.”
“You know Blu’s sister will be here this weekend for the Haworth Christmas party.” Aviva sits up straight as an idea hits her. “Maybe she can introduce you to someone!”
Reynold’s head slightly tilts to one side. “Why’s his sister coming to our Christmas party?”
Answering is effortless. “HE recruited her.”
“For?”
“Bio tech shit.” Putting my almost empty cup down is followed by reaching for my vibrating phone off the counter. “She was working for some company in Vlasta but recently met with Harvey who made her an offer too incredible to pass up.”
He’s good at that.
Almost too good.
Except when it comes to romance.
That he needs major lessons on.
“She’s probably got hot friends,” Aviva enthusiastically insists. “At the very least, smart.” She lifts her beverage back to her lips. “And if you can only have one or the other, choose smart.”
He winces as if just the idea alone hurts leading me to snicker and steal a glimpse of the unread text from Melissa who just wants to verify our meet time.
Okay, now I’m a little less sure that he will, but I’ll keep that to myself.
We’ll call it an early Christmas gift.
Chapter 12
Arley
“I don’t think it’s possible,” Reynolds argues from the driver’s seat of his SUV.
“It’s possible.”
“Parts of it are definitely possible.”
“The whole thing is possible!”
“Yeah…I’m not a like science dude…but pretty sure science says no.”
“Science says yes!” I helplessly laugh while shaking my head. “What do you think baking is?!”
“Cooking.”
“And cooking is…what?”
“Cooking.” Reynolds mindlessly repeats at the same time he pulls into a parking spot right outside the coffee shop. “It’s its own thing.”
This.
This is why I refrain from talking to him for extended periods of time.
Huh.
I wonder if he says this shit to women he’s trying to sleep with.
“It is more than possible to bake you a space shuttle shaped birthday cake.”
“That stands up?”
“Yes!”
“And is completely made out of cake?”
“Yes!”
“Nahhh,” he brushes off and checks his parking job, neon green wording roaming around the vehicle. “That’s just cooking show magic shit.”
I almost wanna make him the cake just to smush his face in it.
Voicing my rebuttal is unexpectedly interrupted by a vibrating sound that immediately catches my bodyguard’s attention. “Is that Wahl already?” He adjusts the rearview to inspect the traffic behind us. “Forfucksake, it’s only 12:01!”
More snickers are conjured as I swipe open to see who the message is from.
Melissa: Here!!! Gonna get in line and order our usual Christmasy faves!
“It’s just Melissa,” I inform prior to tucking my phone back into my Jingle Bells workbag. “Slater really doesn’t check on you that often. He trusts you.”
“That’s what you think,” Reynolds gripes, uneven lettering catching me off guard. “The number of demands he sends for a status report every day paints a very different picture, Carmichael.”
“Yeah, but that’s not about you, that’s about me.”
He stops adjusting his shirt to conceal his weapon in order to shoot me a curious eyebrow lift.
“It doesn’t matter who I’m with. If he’s not the one there to do the protecting, he’s stressing about it. His biggest fear right now is something happening to me again and him not being there to stop it, especially since it’s happened twice already.”
“There’s not gonna be a third, Carmichael. At least, not on my fucking watch.”
“And see,” my fingers hook the door handle for opening, “that’s why we both trust you.”
Reynolds smiles, finishes hiding his holstered weapon, and gets out of the vehicle right after me.
The two of us stroll inside the building with him constantly checking our surroundings, further demonstrating the reasons that work in his benefit when running a risk analysis assessment.
Which I’ve begun to do a little less in my day-to-day life.
Once upon a time, I’d bring out all the analytical tools for “easy” things like picking out a birthday gift for my nieces and nephews, or giving my opinion about where they should go on family vacations based on consumer patterns as much as scientific studies that state certain activities evoke better emotions depending on age, or to give Morris advice on which suit to wear on a date based solely on his past patterns and behaviors yet nowadays, I’ve started to just trust an instinct. Yes, sometimes I will then go and scramble together information to confirm that instinct was of course right; however, those are few and far between. It’s like steadily being around Slater has honed a skill I wasn’t aware was so underdeveloped due to others being so overly developed. I like that I now have an ability to sort of do that.