Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“What was the cop’s name?” Sloane asks, voice dipping low. “The one from last night?”
My blood runs cold. “You think he’s my stalker?”
“I’m not saying that,” Sloane murmurs, “but this station already had one bad seed. I’ll always keep my eyes and ears open. You never know.”
“Brandt. We asked how he stumbled upon us, but he didn’t give an answer other than he was on patrol.”
“Where was the location?”
“One of the lookout points on Park Mountain.”
She relaxes. “We patrol those areas frequently. Teenagers like to go up there and neck.”
I snort out a laugh. “Neck?”
“I’m not that old, Gem. Necking? Never heard of it?”
“Like making out?”
“Yep, it’s official. I am old. Thanks for pointing that out, kid.”
My phone, that’s still in her hand, buzzes. She looks down at it, reading a text, and then hands it over to me.
“Who’s Two?”
Heat floods my face and neck. “The boyfriend. You swear you won’t tell anyone?”
“Promise. Be careful, though.” Her brows knit together. “Trust me. I have a reckless sister. If you’re hiding who you’re seeing, there’s a reason and it’s usually not good.”
“My parents,” I say lamely.
“If Jamie can get over her best friend being engaged to her son, I think she can handle her daughter dating someone. Promise me if this is serious between you and your guy, you’ll open up to your family about him.”
“I will,” I rush out. “Just not right now.”
“Go on and get out of here. The boyfriend awaits, and I quote, ‘in the parking spot right in front of where you hit me with your car.’”
I groan as I read the text he sent. He’s never going to let me live it down.
“Thanks, Sloane.”
We hug and then I down my coffee before hightailing it to campus. I’m nearly late, but as promised, Two is leaned against the grill of his Rover, waiting for me. I pull into the spot next to him and leap out, eager to kiss him.
He pulls me into his arms, rakes his fingers through my freshly washed and dried hair, and then crashes his lips to mine. Already, this morning, he tastes like butterscotch. I kiss him, eagerly roving my tongue over his to sample the rich, buttery flavor. Before it can get too hot and heavy, he pulls away and then grabs my hand.
Walking into the building holding Two’s hand feels right. Like we’re a united front. I always had my brother on the same “team” if you will, but then he moved out to be with Sloane. I didn’t realize how lonely I was until now. Two fills a void my brother left, and not in some sicko perverted incest way. Two’s not just the object of my every lust-filled thought, but he’s my friend too. Yes, he’s weird and annoying and brash at times, but I like that about him. It endears me to him.
“I went by the police station this morning,” I say, glancing his way. “Talked to my future sister-in-law. She’s a detective.”
“About last night? The asshole cop who was following you?”
“Yeah, uh, that. But also the text from this morning.”
He jerks to a stop and comes to stand right in front of me. “What text?”
I pull my phone out and show it to him. His jaw clenches and his gray eyes gleam with anger.
“It’s that cop. It has to be.”
“Sloane says it’s normal to patrol up there. I think the stalker was just following me and saw the cop with us.”
He tears his gaze from mine to scan the parking lot. When he doesn’t see an immediate threat, his eyes are back on mine. I’m pulled into his arms for a tight, quick hug that does wonders to soothe my erratically beating heart.
“We need to be more aware of our surroundings,” he murmurs, kissing my head. “This guy’s gotten the upper hand too many times. If I ever catch him, I’ll…” He trails off, letting his warning hang in the air.
“You’ll bore him to death talking about the original flooring of an entertainment hall built in the early nineteen hundreds?”
He pulls away, smirking at me. “For most people, it’s torture. You’re just a weirdo who likes it. You have a Victorian kink.”
I give him a playful shove. “I do not. Okay, maybe I do. I keep wondering where Alexander and Edgar had their sordid affair. Was it in the quiet, secluded attic? Or did they boldly make love on Alexander’s desk with the drapes open?”
His chuckle warms me to my core. “We’re not including this”—he waggles a finger at me—“in our project. This is factual, not fiction.”
He brings my hands up so he can admire my nail art and then surprises me when he kisses one of the knuckles. “It’s going to be hard keeping my hands off you during class.”
“I won’t complain if you can’t,” I say with a teasing grin.