Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
The front door opens again, and I listen as the screen slams shut. I guess Colt decided to go out for the evening. Shaking my head, I get up from the bed and nearly trip over my backpack.
I move to the closet, figuring I’ll just shove it in there for tonight. It won’t matter anyway. I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning. I don’t know where I’ll go but I can’t stay here. Not when I want Colt this way and it’s obvious that he doesn’t care for me at all.
What I see in the closet makes me pause. There’s a big cardboard box on the top shelf. It’s strange that he’d store a box here. I mean, there are practically no personal touches in the entire house.
I should just leave it alone and respect his privacy. But I’m curious and besides, he’ll never know that I peeked. I have to drag a kitchen chair into the room to pull down the dusty box.
I set it carefully on the bed and open it slowly. As soon as I see the contents, I gasp.
In a wooden frame is a picture of Colt Winters at an outdoor BBQ in blue jeans and a t-shirt complete with his military crew cut. But he’s not alone. His arm is wrapped around a smiling brunette and a tiny sleeping baby is snuggled between the two of them. At the bottom of the frame, three names are carved: Colton, Ivy, and Dustin.
I was right all along. He had been married when I was younger. But what happened? Why is he alone now?
A wife you can divorce but Colt doesn’t strike me as the type of man who would have abandoned his child. His words from earlier today come back to me. The hardest part of being a soldier isn’t the dangerous missions or the rough conditions you find yourself serving under. It’s not being there for your kids.
“Where is your family?” I murmur as I run my thumb along the faces in the photo.
Colt
“Who’s the other guy?” Brody asks as he saunters into the workshop. He must have seen the light on in here and come to check it out.
I don’t say anything as I grab for the punching bag. As soon as it’s steady, I take another swing, and it goes flying again.
Brody steadies it, bracing his weight behind it.
I nod to show my thanks before pummeling the shit out of it. But even twenty minutes later and I’m still going strong. Normally being out here with the bag clears my head. It gives me space to think. But I can’t think about anything tonight except the way that Sierra’s lips felt against mine.
She kissed me tonight, and it confirmed my worst fear. She’s just as attracted to me as I am to her. Her inexperienced kiss turned me on and made me long for more than just a physical connection with her.
“Is it someone I know?” Brody asks when I stop long enough to guzzle half a bottle of water.
“Me,” I finally spit out.
Understanding crosses his face. He didn’t know Parker, but Brody has been with me on enough missions that we can read each other easily. “This about Sierra?”
He knows she’s living with me. He’s known that since she arrived. But I didn’t go into any details or tell him her true identity.
“She’s Parker’s daughter.” Disgust and shame fill me. I don’t think of her like his daughter. No, she’s all woman in my eyes. A woman I’d like to bend over my bed and sink into. I can practically feel her silky hair wrapped around my hand.
“Fuck,” Brody mutters. “That’s what you’re fighting?”
Humiliation burns in my gut. I’m betraying Parker, a man I swore an oath to. I promised him that no matter what I would look out for Sierra. Instead, I’m thinking about bedding her. If I didn’t already have a place in hell before this, I certainly do now.
“Send her on her way,” Brody recommends.
It’s an entirely logical solution and one I’d definitely follow up on if she weren’t so scared. “I can’t.”
“Then you only have one other choice.” The finality in his voice has my attention snapping to his face. The last thing I want to do is hurt her. For a woman who pretends to be so strong and world weary, she’s not fooling me. My little angel is fragile as glass under the surface and how I want to see under her surface. I want to know all of her fractured places and kiss each one until she’s mended back together again.
Before I can say anything, my phone dings with a voicemail. Given the location of the ranch, it’s not uncommon for me to miss calls. This is a number I don’t recognize, and I frown. Most of my buddies are in my contact list.