Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
One night, I thought he was going to kiss me. The following morning, he requested a transfer from my team.
I haven’t talked to him since.
Apparently, that’s the way he wants it.
My chest tightens.
“I’m going to wait in the car,” I say, starting to stand. “If Jason comes back in—”
“Wait.” His palm rests against my thigh. “Just … hang on.”
“Miss? Would you please bring me your paddle?” A woman waves at me from a table next to the water fountain. “The baseball team is having an auction next week, and I promised them our paddles.”
I glance down at Foxx. His blue eyes are nearly green. This shade usually happens late at night, when instead of doing whatever it is he’s supposed to be doing, he stays a little too long with me.
He pulls his hand away from my leg, letting his fingertips drag off to the side.
I get up and leave him behind. My brain scrambles to make sense of this, of him, as I reach the table.
Foxx is complicated—broody and detached. He has this vibe that says stay away from me. Except I’ve never felt like that energy applied to me. From the moment we met, when I watched him climb out of a dark SUV and slide sunglasses off his handsome face, we have been drawn to each other. We share a chemistry, a connection, which was just there. That is there.
But there are so many other things in the mix, namely Jason. Foxx’s loyalty lies with my brother, and he’ll never do anything to jeopardize that relationship or put his job into question. And that’s why he asked to be transferred.
I don’t know what I was hoping for—but it’s obvious that anything more than a Foxx Carmichael shrug is hoping for too much.
I sigh. “Here you go. The paddle is returned.”
The woman takes it from me. “Thank you. And congratulations on your win. That was … memorable.”
“Thank you.” I laugh. “I do love a good charity.” How many times am I going to say that today?
She winks at me.
I half-smile, half-grimace, and begin to return to my chair. But as I pivot, I nearly run into Colin.
“There you are,” he says, grinning. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”
“Well, I almost ran into you, but I get your point.”
He chuckles. “Are you from around here? I haven’t seen you before.”
Foxx’s gaze blisters me from the side. I would love to look at him and see the look on his handsome face—maybe it would help me understand him—but I don’t. I pointedly ignore him. He’s the one that doesn’t want to talk to me.
“No, I’m not from here,” I say, smiling at the firefighter. “I’m just visiting friends with my brother.”
“I got ya. You know, I was hoping you would save me from having a date with an eighty-year-old librarian.”
I laugh. “Hey, don’t knock the librarians. She might be able to teach you a thing or two.”
“Maybe. But how about—oh, hey, Foxx.”
My insides twist as Foxx’s arm slides across my lower back. Goose bumps break out across my skin as I glance up at him. His jaw pulses.
Damn.
I should pull away from him. I should step away and ask him what’s going on—remind him that he has no right to intervene in this conversation. But I’ve missed his touch far too much.
Foxx doesn’t say a word to Colin—not verbally, anyway. One thing I’ve learned about Foxx Carmichael is that sometimes words aren’t necessary to convey your point.
“Nice to meet you, Colin,” I say over my shoulder.
He half waves, confused, and walks away.
Foxx’s fingertips press into my skin. I could so easily lean into him, relishing in the fireworks exploding in my body. But I don’t. I pull myself together instead.
“What the hell is this?” I ask Foxx while we walk away.
His muscles are tense. His bicep flexes behind me, and his body is rigid as we find our seats.
He drops his arm and puts a bit of distance between us. “I could ask you the same damn thing.”
“Watch this. I’ll show you how to answer a question.” I flash him a facetious smile. “I was flirting with a very handsome man who was all too eager to converse with me. I know you aren’t super familiar with the concept of friendly conversation, but lots of people enjoy that kind of thing.”
His eyes narrow. “You don’t even know him.”
“True. But I’m ninety-nine percent certain that I could’ve known him deeply by the night's end if you hadn’t interrupted.”
“You should watch yourself, Bianca.”
“You aren’t on my security detail anymore, Foxx,” I say, lifting a brow. “Remember?”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “What’s your point?”
“What’s my point? My point is that what I do is none of your concern.”
He smiles, but it’s not out of amusement. “I beg to differ.”
Anger ripples off him. I’ve seen him do this before. He stands tall, gets this menacing look on his face, and exudes a dangerous, broody energy. People tend to back off.