Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
“I already do. You’re here.”
“Bennett has operations all over the world,” he says. “If you end up hating this city, we’ll move.”
That offer speaks worlds to me. He’s all in with me. We really are the team that I doubted just hours ago. I lean forward and press my hand to his. “We can go where we decide we want to be, but I love that this place is your life. I love that it can be my life.”
“It’s already your life,” he says, cupping my hand and kissing my knuckles. “It’s our life, Harper.”
“And I love that, but being here with you lets me learn all about you. I want to know your favorite places. I want to know your friends. I want to see your brilliant mind work and—” I consider a moment, then continue, “I want to know what every tattoo on your body says and the story that goes with it.” I point to a row of numbers. “This one. What does it mean?”
He laughs, low and rough, so damn sexy. “That one: mud puddles.”
I frown. “What? What does that mean?”
“Family and no, not my fucked-up Kingston family.” He doesn’t wait for the obvious next question. He launches into the story. “I was on a mission during a particularly bad rainy season in Europe. Me and three other SEALs had to drag each other through mud puddles that felt like quicksand to complete a mission and survive.”
“And you helped each other,” I supply. “The way family is supposed to help family.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“I’d pull you through mud puddles, or well, I’d probably just fall in it with you.”
He laughs again, and it’s so good to see him like this. “I’d stay in the mud puddles if you were with me.”
I smile at his reply. “What happened to those SEALs?”
“We stay connected, but it’s more—a pack. We live our lives separately, but we have a communication system. If we ever need each other, we’re there for each other, no questions asked.”
I’m in awe of this discovery. He has SEAL buddies—no, brothers—that would come to help him if needed, and while I wonder if he’s considered that now, with the mob, I find myself resisting the idea of letting that hell into our evening. As it is, I expect the phone to ring at any moment and while I welcome answers, I really do want this time alone with Eric.
We spend almost two hours drinking wine and talking about everything but the Kingstons. He gravitates toward telling me funny stories about a few of his Navy pals, which I believe is because they are so far removed from this life, this world. He meant it when he said he needed an escape. In turn, I avoid the Kingstons and share stories of my frequent outings with my father, who I went to a Sunday movie with two times a month.
“Movies,” Eric murmurs, stroking a strand of hair from my eyes. “I haven’t been to the movies in years.”
“Me either,” I say. “Not since he died. I just—I can’t.”
“What if we went together? A way to bring your father to me, since I can’t meet him.”
If the man is trying to make me fall more in love with him, it’s working. “I’d like that,” I say, my eyes burning, emotions expanding in my chest. “Very much.”
“Well then, it’s Friday night. Why don’t we make it a Saturday night date?”
“I’d like that very much,” I repeat, hoping it can happen. “But Eric, we’re living in hell right now. Don’t we need to deal with that hell?”
“We do. We will. In fact, right now,” he stands and pulls me to my feet, “I’m going to put you in a hot bath and do some thinking while you’re relaxing.”
A few minutes later, we’re in the bathroom where a luxurious bubble bath has been created with floral-scented bubbles we purchased while shopping. “This tub has never been used,” he says, as I settle into the sunken egg-shaped sensation filled with warm water and he sets my newly filled wine glass next to me.
“Join me,” I suggest. “Come try out your own tub.”
“Our tub, baby,” he says, sitting on the edge next to me. “And you just enjoy the bath. My head is clear for the first time in twenty-four hours. I’m going to put that empty space to use.”
“That space that is your head is never empty, but I get it. Go. Do. Be the savant. I hope you find answers.”
“Me, too, baby. Me, too.”
The “baby” endearment is back. He doesn’t use it often, but I wonder if it’s during the times when he’s most relaxed. The idea pleases me as I don’t think he’s had many of those moments in life, moments I equate to peace, which I would very like to deliver to him.