Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I’m just as bewildered as she is, but I play it cool. “We have hours until Brandon will let us touch a single file.”
“Then I’ll switch my dinner date to a lunch rendezvous.”
I pretend she never interrupted me. “And once that happens, we won’t have a second to ourselves, so we may as well use the time well now.”
“That isn’t true. I’m close. I have several leads and a reliable source that…” Her words soften the longer I stare at her. She doesn’t want to admit this. Hell, I don’t want her to admit it, but we’re weeks away from unearthing reliable intel, and even then, it could lead us down another dead end.
This type of case is never solved in six weeks. I’m just wishing like fuck for a miracle.
Not wanting to face the truth, Macy pushes a wayward hair away from her face before saying, “Fine, but if you mention breast pads and sanitary napkins again, you will learn the hard way that my bump covers more than a gun. My right hook is just as dangerous.”
While waggling my brows, loving that the mud the bureau slung on her years ago, when they took the word of her attacker over her, hasn’t swiped her feisty personality, I open the door of the baby store and gesture for her to enter before me, the tremor of my hands unmissable.
6
MACY
The bell above the door of the Baby Bunting franchise chimes when Grayson and I enter. Baby powder and that new furniture smell everyone loves fill the air, and cribs, strollers, and a range of baby supplies line the walls.
With his eyes wide, Grayson matches my shaky steps stride for stride. His presence is oddly comforting, and it calms my racing pulse. In silence, excluding our multiple swallows, we make our way to the furniture section to examine the cribs. It seems a more urgent purchase than the rest. And perhaps a car seat?
There are so many options, and I’m a little overwhelmed by that. A baby only sleeps in their crib, don’t they? So why are there so many options?
The cuff of Grayson’s long-sleeved designer shirt brushes my wrist when he stands close enough to me that I can smell his cologne. “Do you see one you like?”
“Um…”
I’m about to point to a random crib when a salesclerk approaches us. She’s wearing a name tag that reads Jordan, and she has a mild look of disinterest on her face… until she spots Grayson. Then her tongue hangs out of her mouth.
I can’t say I blame her. Grayson is gorgeous. I just wish jealousy didn’t always smack me anytime someone rewards him an ounce of attention.
“Do you need any help?” Jordan’s tone is suddenly enthusiastic, and her focus is more on Grayson than me.
I look up, attempting to be polite, but regardless of how frequently my brain shouts for my mouth to answer her, it refuses to relinquish my words. I hate the way she’s eyeballing Grayson like he isn’t standing in a store predominantly visited by couples.
This isn’t Tinder in the Wild. She should save her prowling for outside of work hours.
I inwardly curse myself. When Grayson and I worked together before, I often had to take my own advice, and I am not as beautiful as Jordan. I’ve always been the plain Jane of the group, preferring comfort over bust-defying shirts and skimpy skirts. It is even worse now that I can barely fit into a single article of clothing in the minimal selection in my linen closet.
With my mouth being uncooperative, Grayson takes up the campaign on my behalf. “Yes. Macy is looking for a crib. Do you have any recommendations?”
Jordan glances at Grayson, her lashes fluttering excessively, before she turns her attention back to me. “We have a few options.” Her expression dips back to disinterested when her eyes land on me. “But cribs can be quite expensive. Do you need a new one? If you’ve delayed parenting until your age and are doing it alone, spending a fortune on a crib that you’ll only use once makes no sense.”
I’m annoyed she’s talking down to me, but I stay calm, more bothered by her lusty gawk of Grayson than her ribbing about my age. “I’m sure.”
Jordan raises a pencil-thin brow, clearly skeptical. “All right, well, this one is one of our more affordable options.” She gestures to a crib that looks extremely flimsy.
I glance at the crib, then back at Jordan. “Actually, I was thinking of one more like that.” I point to a sturdier crib that my wide gaze floated over earlier.
Jordan’s expression shifts to one of surprise. “That one is quite a bit more expensive. Are you positive you want to spend that much? Caring for a child on your own is a lot of work, but it will be worse if you put yourself in debt before the baby is here.”