Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
She coughed. “People will get suspicious if you start relaying messages for me.”
“Let them. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
She blew her nose and moaned in defeat. “Fine. Thank you.”
He kissed her head then kissed Rat. “I’ll be back soon. Call me over the radio if you need anything.”
“Take your phone!”
“I will, but it’s windy today. Use the radio if it’s important.”
She groaned and tossed a crumpled tissue beside the waste basket by the couch.
A loud bang woke Wren, the ache drilling behind her eyes still jackhammering away.
“Grey?” she croaked, startled by her voice. When she coughed, it hurt so much she fell back asleep out of sheer defeat. The pounding continued and then someone bellowed for Greyson and her skull shriveled.
Wren’s eyes popped open and she groaned as the door opened, letting a cold draft in.
“You’ve got some nerve, man!” Whoever was yelling was about to catch her wrath.
They yanked the covers off of her. “Hey!”
Logan blinked, confused. “Wren?”
She weakly pulled herself up, snatched back the covers, and collapsed. The air outside the blankets was freezing.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m sick,” she rasped. Anything over a whisper burned like a scream.
He took a step back and pulled the collar of his shirt over his mouth and nose. “What do you have? You look like death.”
“Thanks,” she croaked, tugging the blanket over her shoulders.
Logan looked around, confused. “Where’s Grey?”
“He had errands.” No need to explain more than she had to. Her throat couldn’t take it.
“Are you... sick-sick? Or like... dramatically hungover?”
She hacked into a tissue. “Sick.”
“Damn,” he muttered. “Soren told me…” He scratched the back of his head, rethinking his purpose. “I didn’t realize you were sick.”
Should she tell him? Weakness made it difficult, but he deserved the truth. “Grey got sick first. I caught his cold.”
“This is a cold?”
She blew her nose and hacked. “Yes. I should feel better tomorrow.”
“So it’s true? You two are…”
She nodded and closed her eyes, too tired to face his censure. “If you came here to yell, please do it in a whisper.”
He exhaled and dropped into the armchair across from her. “It’s hard to yell at someone who looks like roadkill in August. You want tea or something?”
She knew Greyson was full of crap when he said she looked adorable. Peeking at Logan through one eye, she asked, “You’re not mad at me?”
“Come on, Wren. You know I can’t stay mad at you.”
“But you’re mad at Greyson?”
“He’s different.”
“How?” She reached for another tissue and blew her nose.
“Dear God, I think you just called a few ships into harbor.”
“Shut up.” She sniffled, resting her head on the pillow. “He didn’t do this to hurt you.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”
Her heart pinched. “Logan…”
“Don’t. I don’t need anyone’s pity, and it would kill me to be on the receiving end of yours, Wren.”
“Sympathy isn’t pity.”
“Well, it’s damn close.”
Her head pounded, but she cared more about him than herself in that moment. “We can talk about it if you want.”
He shrugged. “What’s there to say? Greyson always gets what Greyson wants. Now, he’ll have everything.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Come on, Wren. He’s got you, and now he’ll get the company. What else is there?”
She stilled. “That’s not what this is, Logan.”
“No?” He looked around. “You’re in his shirt, in his house, on his couch. Try and tell me that’s not winning.”
“He doesn’t want to marry me and this has nothing to do with the fishery.”
“He told you that?”
He hadn’t told her, but she knew Greyson. He wasn’t doing this for an inheritance, and they hadn’t even slept together yet, so marriage was light years ahead. “This thing between us has nothing to do with your father.”
“That’s what you think.”
“That’s what I know, Logan. It’s taken us thirty years to get here. We’re not rushing.”
“He had his entire life to go after you, and he didn’t. Now, he’s suddenly changing his mind? Seems a little fast and coincidental to me.”
She was too tired for this conversation. “You’re wrong.”
“We’ll see.” He stood. “I guess congratulations are in order. Let’s just hope he sticks around and doesn’t pull a Greyson.”
She wanted to tell him that wouldn’t happen, but she honestly shared the same fears. “He’s not like that anymore.”
He paused and spared her a pitying glance. “For your sake, I hope you’re right. Feel better, Wren. Tell him I stopped by.”
The door shut, and she slumped weakly into the cushions. Boys could be so much drama. She coughed, moaned, and rolled onto her side, drifting back to sleep.
A while later, she awoke to Greyson speaking softly to someone in the kitchen, his voice low and indulgent.
“You like that, huh?” he murmured, a soft chuckle following. “That’s it. Take a little more.”
Wren frowned, recognizing the voice as the same one he used for dirty talk?
“Easy,” he said, tone coaxing in a familiar way. “That’s it. Nice and slow.”