Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Christ,” Jim mutters, finishing off his beer. “This is going to be hard work.”
“I got your back,” I assure him.
“Speaking of backs,” Jim says, his tone saying he’s changing the subject. “What’s going on with this thing with Mollie’s stalker?”
“No fucking clue,” I grouse. “The police are stuck. He could be anywhere, but they can’t go search the world for him. He’s in some criminal database with an outstanding warrant, so if he gets stopped anywhere, he’ll be arrested. But past that, it’s wait to see if he’ll show up.”
“You could find him,” Jim suggests.
My entire body jolts upward as I turn to face him. “What do you mean?”
Jim sort of frowns, as if he can’t believe I’m this thick when I’d just given him a huge amount of advice on how to fix his marriage. “Locate the fucker. You’ve got huge monetary resources at your disposal. Hire the best investigator out there. In fact, you should hire that security group out of Pittsburgh—the one Willow knows. She was embedded with one of their groups in Syria. I bet they can help.”
Comprehension crashes over me, and a burgeoning feeling of hope fills my chest cavity.
Fucking, yes.
I have the ability to find the douche. Or at least I have the money to pay the people who have the ability to find the douche.
I grin. “You’re goddamn brilliant. Not at your marriage, mind you, but at helping me take down Mollie’s stalker.”
“And you suck at figuring out how to take down a stalker,” he quips back. “But you’ve got some good romantic ideas that seem workable.”
“We make a good team,” I say, leaning across to his bed with my fist out. We tap knuckles, blow it up, and settle back into our beds.
Jim turns on the TV and within moments, he’s sound asleep. When Mollie calls, I decline and shoot her a text that Jim’s asleep.
We end up texting each other for about an hour—until my eyes can barely stay open. She’s having a great time at her parents, but she’s eager to fly home tomorrow to be with me again. I don’t mention Jim’s idea to find Matthew. I’m going to do that on the sly. I don’t want her to be pissed at my meddling or perhaps worried I’m getting in too deep myself. If I find him, I’ll let her know and we can decide what to do. Tomorrow, I’ll get in touch with Willow and ask her about this security company she worked with.
We end our exchange with mutual, “I miss you’s,” and it leaves me wondering why we don’t just say we love each other.
I know we both do. We did before we became intimate. While I can’t exactly speak for Mollie, I know within myself that the feelings have intensified.
And yet, we’ve haven’t ever said it with the intended meaning.
Perhaps we’re still taking it a bit slow to make sure this is will work. Maybe saying the actual words might jinx something.
Or maybe it has to be said at the perfect time.
Regardless, Mollie is on my mind as I go to sleep, and it’s her I dream about that night.
CHAPTER 16
Mollie
Kane has a fabulous walk-in closet, which is impressive given this is an apartment, but it’s pretty sumptuous. I open the door, positioning it at an angle where I can see myself in the long mirror attached to the inside.
Looking into it now, I decide I’m either the sexiest or the most foolish thing he’s ever seen.
Frankly, I don’t care which.
If he thinks it’s sexy, I’ll get some amazing “glad to see you again” sex. If he thinks it’s foolish, we’ll both have a great laugh and still have fantastic sex.
It’s because of how much I trust Kane and the bond we share that I don’t care if he finds my outfit silly. We may laugh, but he’ll never do so in a way that’ll make me feel stupid.
I glance over at the clock on the table beside the bed. He texted as soon as the team plane landed to say he’d be home around ten AM. It’s just a few minutes past ten, so he’ll be walking in any moment now.
I had taken the first flight out from San Diego to Phoenix this morning so I could be here to welcome him home from his first road trip. The idea I had—how I’ll be greeting him soon—was born at my parents’ house, so I’d raided my mother’s craft supplies before I left. She asked me what I needed so much ribbon for, but I made up some lame excuse about starting up scrapbooking.
Not that it was a strict lie. I’ve always wanted to make prints of some of my best travel photos to make actual scrapbooks one day.
It’s just that today is not that day.
Instead, I lay crosswise on Kane’s bed, on my side with one leg bent. My elbow is in the mattress with my head resting in the palm of my hand. It’s a casually reclined look, but sexy at the same time.