Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I'm panting like an idiot, coming down from the blistering high. What the hell was that? Really?
I'm not losing it. It's just a fantasy. Harmless.
I'm not stupid. I won't actually bed my nanny, and screw up the best break I've had in awhile before it's even begun. But damn if I'm able to ignore the urge. She can't live in my head rent free, without relief, knowing the fucked up insta-lust thing her body does to my mind.
I think about her blood books and grin, hands braced against the tiled wall so they rinse away the shameful sweat clinging to my skin. Whatever happens next, I won't let her stick me. Red will not fucking break my skin.
If she doesn't get into my system, and discover my blood is already on fire, we might have a fighting chance at making this work. Without someone getting fucked very hard, I mean, while someone else's heart gets pulverized.
3
Bossypants (Sadie)
I can't believe it's been a week working for the man the whole town keeps at an arm's length.
I haven't told anybody yet. As far as my family, my friends, my co-workers know, I'm just picking up a few extra hours watching a busy welder's kid. Not exactly uncommon in this town, where two thirds of the men still make their money off motor oil, muscle, and machines.
The timing is just as well, too. We'll be into Christmas soon. Officially signaling the end of my lab training and a few days to rest.
I doubt I'll have as many days here with this little cherub. We've shifted from wildlife studies to reading practice, a lesson plan set by Papa Bear, who's surprisingly meticulous about his daughter's learning schedule.
I wouldn't have expected a man like Marshal to know the first thing about homeschooling. He tells me he's planning to send her to school as soon as she's kindergarten age, but he wants her ready to leave everybody else in the dust.
So, I follow his lesson plan. I use Google and a few advice videos from YouTube to help fill in the gaps. I ask the little girl for her thoughts after we watch the kids' shows on his list, and she recites back what she's learned beautifully.
Surprisingly easy. Efficient. Mutual.
She's happy, and I'm making money. That's the point, right?
If it weren't for him, the answer would be obvious. But I'm learning fast there's a lot more than what's surface deep.
Marshal never shows his face more than two or three times during our days together, always briefly. And often just to check in, make sure I'm carrying out his orders, and pay up at the end of the day.
After seven days back to back, it's becoming routine. He spends the last couple hours with us in the living room, seemingly ahead with his work.
Marshal stomps across the room while I'm reading to Mia and rips a few candy canes off the tall Christmas tree reaching to the ceiling. He shoves one into my hand, passing the little girl another. “Part of your bonus. Won't need you around until the twenty-sixth,” he growls, biting through the wrapper of the final cane he keeps for himself.
“Got it. We'll pick up then. Anything else you need before I head out?” I ask, gathering my training material into my backpack. I'm so ready to be done.
It's nice to accomplish something for a change. Just a few more hours to log and a test or two, and I can start contemplating my future with a fancy new license from the state of Iowa.
“We need to talk hours for next year. You're performing, Red.” I blink through his compliment, surprised. “Didn't think you had it in you to juggle responsibilities. Glad I was wrong. Guess you're more grown up than you look – especially in the jeans.”
Mia laughs, watching me stand, hands on my hips. I'm not daunted by the prickly glow in his bright blue eyes. “Again, bossypants? If you want more hours, I wish you'd take an interest in something besides what I'm wearing.”
“Keep dressing right and maybe I will.” Jesus, he's serious. He looks at me slowly, hoisting Mia into his arms, then settling into the huge wood recliner in the corner. The end of the unwrapped candy cane goes into the corner of his mouth and there's a loud crunch. “I'm trying to be nice, Sadie. It's almost Christmas. Relax.”
There's nothing relaxing about the second time he chews into peppermint. Mia giggles at the sound.
I don't know why I'm so on edge.
If only calming down were so easy. Truly, nothing ever puts me at ease in his presence. Well, nothing except the wild contrast between this beast and his daughter, who looks like a porcelain doll in his arms, smiling so sweetly.
She clearly loves the brute. He'd tear a hole through the world just to keep that happy grin on her face. They're a happy family, a unit, however strange and unlikely.