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)
“You remembered me being excited about rolling ladders from a Disney movie?”
Not just any Disney movie. The Disney movie. A book-loving girl getting the beast of her dreams? I totally identified with Belle.
“Also heard you say more than once how you’d love one of those, how it’s the ultimate home library feature. Though, baby, with how accident-prone you are, gonna insist you just let me climb it when you need a book from the top shelf. You hungry?” he asks.
I’m starving, actually, but I shrug and say, “I could eat.”
He gets out of the truck. So do I.
“You gonna keep fighting me on the chivalry?” he asks.
“Probably,” I say.
His eyebrows jut up. “You gonna keep fighting me in general?”
I raise my own brows. “You expect me to answer that?”
“Hold that thought. I’ll ask again on our third date.”
I roll my eyes. But my heart is beating faster than it should.
36
JASE
“Explain this Alaska job thing to me,” I request.
We’ve ordered our meals and are sitting in a booth, in the corner of the restaurant.
“Dr. Blakely wants me to work for him with the SCC for six to nine months.”
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know much,” she mutters, taking her glasses off and cleaning them with the cloth napkin. ”Said he heard I was a whiz with data and needs help with a special research project. I told him I’d consider it.”
“You wanna do it?”
“I… don’t know. I thought it’d be a good break from everything around home. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“If you wanna do it, we’ll go.”
“We?”
“Obviously,” I say in a mild tone.
“But… buh-but…” she stammers and then lets it hang.
“If you want to do this job, gain that experience, need to do this for your career or whatever, I support it. What I don’t support is the idea of being away from you for months.”
“But the council…” She lets that hang, too.
“A benefit of having seven of us, Bay. The team’ll manage without me for a couple months. I’m not living away from you for that length of time. Not for weeks, not even for days. Not doin’ it.”
“And work…”
I shrug. “It’ll be covered. The guys can jump in and help Grey with the properties. Tyson’s on the construction crew now, too, and he’s learning plumbing, carpentry, and electrical. He’s picking it all up quickly. I’ve got savings. I can handle not taking a salary for a couple months. Investments are doing well so I won’t really feel it.”
“I don’t even know if I wanna do it,” she mutters. “I don’t have a job description or any idea about compensation or accommodations. And besides…I’d miss the last two matings and maybe even miss Grey and Stacy’s twins being born.”
“Last two matings?” I ask. “Why’ve you gotta be around for those?”
“For the girls, whoever they are. I’ve been there to support the first four. I want to do that for all of them.”
“Ah.” I say. “Think on it then. If you want to do it, we can make it work.”
“If I want to know more, I’ll reach out to Dr. Blakely for a job description.”
“He’s on his way here so you can ask him in person. Get more information, think on it, and let me know when you decide.”
She wanted to take that job so she wouldn’t have to watch me pair up with someone. Now that it’s her, that erases her need to get away. But I know enough about Bailey, I’m not surprised in the least that she wants to be around for Linc’s and Joel’s matings. She’s always at the center of everything. I tease her that she’s a nosy, busy bee, but I’ve always known that she genuinely wants to be helpful. Bailey is the model of what makes our pack a great place to be.
She sips her cranberry juice, but startles, looking around.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says quickly but her eyes are scanning the space around us.
“You hearing things again?”
She frowns. “Never mind.”
I reach across the table and grab her hand. “You can tell me.”
She shakes her head and stares at my hand holding hers. The meals are delivered and she immediately pulls away from my grip and forks into her salad.
“Who comes to a steakhouse, calls it their favorite restaurant, and orders a salad?” I quip after swallowing my first delicious bite of my rare porterhouse.
She replies, “I can’t eat steak if there’s any red on the plate and whenever I’ve tried to order it in a restaurant, it’s bloody or it’s one step from beef jerky. Never in between. Bleurgh. Besides, this is the best salad ever.”
It’s massive and she seems like she’s enjoying it.
“And they have that warm sourdough bread they serve with the whipped butter, not to mention their mile high carrot cake cheesecake that I really love,” she adds, then goes red-faced. “Though… I don’t really need it.”