Total pages in book: 203
Estimated words: 199654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 998(@200wpm)___ 799(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 998(@200wpm)___ 799(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
And in an instant, we’re chest to chest.
“You better fuckin’ watch it!” I growl.
“You need to let that aggression out, don’t ya?” he asks with a smug smirk, using his chest to push me back. And I give it right back.
He’s baiting me. He wants me to lose my cool. He thinks I need it. He bares his teeth, then says, You’re actin’ like a fool, Creed. Fix it. She’s been in love with you her whole life. If you can’t fix this, you don’t deserve her.”
Rage surges through my system and I pull my fist back and let it fly, hitting Linc in the mouth.
As my fist connects, his boot hooks around the back of my leg and I hit the ground hard, with a grunt, then immediately bounce back up, just in time for his fist to connect with my jaw and send my head flying sideways.
I rip my shirt off, about to shift so we can fight with teeth, but he shouts, “You fucked up and you’re pissed at yourself. So what are you gonna do besides fighting with me?”
“I’m gonna fix it, for fuck’s sake. Fuck off!” I throw the shirt.
“Do you know what you’ve got to do?” Linc shouts, face two inches from mine.
“Yeah!” I holler.
“Good!” he hollers back, then throws his beefy arms around me and slaps my back. “Then do it. Tomorrow at noon,” he says the last part calmly, like all that didn’t just happen.
I shove him. Hard. He stumbles and falls on his ass, grinning up at me from the dirt.
Rye, Mase, and Joel are all laughing now. Finding this fucking hilarious.
I fold in half, grabbing my thighs and hauling in air, catching my breath.
The first gaze I meet after straightening up is Grey’s.
“You’re gonna make my sister so fuckin’ happy when you prove yourself. Nobody wants to see that more than me.”
“Disagree with you there, Greyson,” I tell him, my voice gruff.
Tyson slaps my back with affection, with an encouraging expression on his face.
Grey smiles, before saying, “That’s exactly what your new brother-in-law wants to hear.”
33
BAILEY
At least I slept last night. The Young sisters sure know how to host a sleepover. We had two fountains, one cheese and the other chocolate, with all the dippy fixings, plus cocktail and mocktail choices. We did mask facials, manicures, and pedicures while watching Practical Magic. If I were in my right mind, I’d have had a blast.
Ronnie was quiet, but present. I knew she was having a rough time coping with the emotions she’d gleaned after touching Cicely’s mate, so I didn’t bother to ask her to read me. In fact, it was partly her state of mind, and partly my own. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what she’d find if she touched me, so I didn’t ask her to do it.
Vivi and Erica doted on me, though Erica went home to Riley after the movie, telling me to ask Dani for her special sleepy tea as she hugged me goodbye. Dani heard and moments later I was holding a steaming mug of the best chamomile tea I’d ever tasted with a little tea ball full of flowers floating in it. I drank every drop and in the time it took me to brush my teeth and wash my face, I was yawning, then promptly fell asleep on one of their rollaway beds under a thick duvet that Dani had spritzed with an infused lavender mist. And I had a restful, dreamless sleep that I really, really needed.
We woke up, took turns getting showered, ate a light breakfast, which I forced myself to eat, and then because Dani and Vivi needed to do something at their covenstead, Ronnie took me home and is waiting with me. Mom and Dad are out, but Ronnie is ready to call for backup if Jase turns up before they get back. I was assured he can’t touch me until after twelve o’clock, but that they’d be here before then.
***
I’m in the sunroom by myself and it’s almost five to twelve. Dani, Ronnie, Erica, and Vivi are outside having their own little meeting.
Here he is, walking in, making my heart do backwards somersaults.
He’s so handsome it hurts to look at him. He’s in dark jeans and boots as well as the flannel shirt I slept in the night it rained. He’s clean-shaven and his eyes are on me as he comes in and sits in the empty chair right beside me. He’s too close for comfort, that’s for sure. His eyes are bloodshot, with dark circles under them.
I stare at my hands in my lap.
“Mornin’, Bay,” he practically whispers. “You look pretty. How you doin’?”
My eyes bounce up to meet his.
How am I doing?
“I’m fine,” I lie.
Why does he smell so good? Why can’t the scent of him repulse me? Why does how sad he looks make me feel even worse?