Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Rook growled. “I went to Cedar Crest in Allentown.”
I gave him a glare that implied a little too aggressive, even if she hated me. Attention on Madison again, I nonchalantly leaned against the wall. “Unless …”
“Unless what?” She tried to stand again; those unfashionable ass steel bracelets stopped her. “Unless what, Washington?”
“I’ma leave you stuck in limbo.” Like you left my heart.
I was calling her bluff. She’d stay here for another couple of hours. I’d get coffee at Café du Monde while they processed her release. She’d be more agreeable to our dates when I returned with her favorite café au lait. And a couple of orders of beignets. Was she getting an entire order? Please. She’d get one. If NOPD didn’t take too long in bringing her to me. Yep. I liked the sound of that.
Then we’d go home.
Nah, what was I saying? Madison hadn’t been home since giving up on us. She’d charge me with abduction, calling us even. I couldn’t allow that. As long as Madison owed me … I’d show her we belonged together and stop all this crazy, mad crap.
mad
. . .
Afew hours later, the sight of that gorgeous specimen took a fishhook to my pride. I wanted to blame it on solitary confinement. Washington leaned casually against a silver Range Rover, his suit tailored to six feet, three inches of ambition and thick muscle. His beautiful bald head reflected like a beacon in the morning light. Mercy, I never shoulda gotten attached to that head! The smug look on his face read, Checkmate.
He did this little debonair thing while removing his sunglasses. “You cool down, Maddy?”
“Oh, no.” As I approached him, my legs moved with a graceful fluidity. One foot in front of the other, as if I were wearing stilettos. A stark contrast to my worn slippers. And the cheap Walmart pajamas that might not have matched since the top was emojis and the bottom? Hell, I didn’t know what my sister was thinking when she bought these pajama pants.
The fading but still legible words read:
Built for Netflix, PRIME, HULU, TUBI. ALL OF EM.
I need to stop stealing my sister’s clothes.
Still. My outfit epitomized my alternative lifestyle of zero craps to give.
He opened the passenger door.
My mouth turned up, a snide reminder of what I’d done. “Nice. A rental?”
He nodded. “Get in. You know I’m not that compulsive. Why would I have two vehicles?”
“Maybe you’re going through a midlife crisis?” A little early since he was thirty-eight. I was a young thirty-two. “When we met at college, you drove a car so loud I’m surprised neighborhood dogs didn’t file complaints.”
“Funny.”
“You think I got jokes. Check this? I had a thing for older men. Should’ve flirted with the poli-sci 101 instructor and not his broken-down teacher’s assistant.”
“Get. In. The. Car.” His tense mouth relaxed. “Coffee, just how you like it, is in the cupholder.”
“Alright, I can’t afford an Uber, anyway.” I slid in, mumbling, “I should create some fake accounts to one-star bomb you.”
“Actually,” he said, reaching in.
I gave a mortified yelp as he strapped me into the seat. On our first date, he’d done the same thing. He’d said, Gotta keep my treasure safe. Now, he carried the blend of bergamot, blackcurrant, jasmine, and birch. The perfect amount of Creed Aventus. Back then he’d bathed in a bottle of You Da Man cologne from the Dollar Tree.
As he latched my seatbelt, I caught a flash of a memory that nearly broke me. Washington had asked why he couldn’t snap me into my seatbelt after our son…. He had the audacity to ask while we sat with the therapist, making me the problem.
“Sorry, habit,” he muttered.
As my eyes turned glassy, he stepped back. “Anyway, you can only rate a driver you’ve driven with. I don’t mind starting up an Uber. Of course, I’d only give you rides. One-star me all night long, bébé.”
Washington shut the door and hustled around the Land Rover.
As he got in, I folded my arms. “You’re being weird.”
“How so?”
“Flirty.”
He turned in the seat. “We were always flirtatious. Remember when we used to sit cross-legged, naked in bed? No touching until we said something—”
“Romantic,” I snapped.
“That we had never said before. Self-restraint and self-torture? Best days of my life because when I touched you it was heaven.”
I reached for the door. This baby-maker had gone out of business. Googled it. Permanently closed in all red caps.
That’s why I let you go. You’re too intelligent to be so dumb.
“Okay! What do you want to hear, Maddy?” His tone was a rasp of regret. “You asked for a divorce. I allowed pride to agree when I should’ve shut that crap down from day one and fought harder. Hell, I shoulda tied you up and kept you home.”
“Ah, now you’re giving me Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer. Cute.” Ugh. He hadn’t stalked me, so why resort to deadpan comedy?