Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I can’t help it, but I actually feel sorry for this idiot. His best friend just died, and his brother beat him up. Also, there’s just something about seeing a grown man break down like this that I find difficult to turn my back on. Maybe because I never once saw my father shed a tear. In my mind, it’s a huge deal. Men just don’t cry unless they’re in deep pain.
“Come inside,” I say begrudgingly. “I’ll make you some coffee.”
“Thank you.” He sniffles. “Got any of those soy eggs left over?”
Ohellno. I am not cooking for this man. “I have coffee or tea. That’s all you’re getting.”
He sniffles with a sob. “Thanks, Mila.”
“Whatever. Let’s get inside before all the neighbors hear you crying.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I get Carter some ice, begrudgingly fix him some fake eggs, and resist the urge to add to his bruises. He still hasn’t explained why he took the coward’s way out and bailed after damaging my car. I have the feeling if I ask, he’ll have some convenient excuse that places the blame on Logan.
After I change, clean up the kitchen, and get my clothes washing (yes. On-site. So wonderful! The machines came with the house), I go to check on Carter. Once again, he’s stretched out on my couch in a sleeping bag. There’s a pile of stuff next to the sofa—the same stuff he arrived at the airport with.
I make a sour face. “What the hell?” He didn’t have any bags earlier. Did he stash them somewhere and bring them inside while I wasn’t looking?
I go over to wake him, giving his shoulder a poke. “Hey, you can’t sleep here, Carter.” (A) I don’t trust him, and (B) I fucking don’t trust him.
“No, no. Stop hitting me, Logan,” he mumbles.
I roll my eyes. “I know you’re faking it, Carter. Get up and leave.”
He rolls over, farts and starts snoring.
Okay, maybe he really is asleep. I sigh, go get my purse, make sure my car keys are inside, and put everything under my bed. I close my bedroom door and lock it. Please, Dear God, don’t let him burn the place down or flood it. I can’t handle any more disasters.
I crawl under the covers and dream every nightmare possible about Logan and Carter. Dualling sticky nuts. The sticky nut Olympics. A shoot-out using nut guns.
When I wake, my heart is pounding. It’s Saturday morning, and it feels worse than a Monday.
I can’t do this. I can’t have these men in my life. They’re going to drive me, well, fucking nuts. I push my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath. “I have to end this. With both of them.”
I get up to wake Carter and kick him out. His sleeping bag is still here, but he’s not on the couch. I find him in the laundry room, folding my clothes. He’s already dressed in a blue button-down and jeans.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Couldn’t sleep. Thought you could use some help.”
Huh. Now that’s weird. “Thanks, but I don’t want you touching my panties. Those are kind of private.”
He flashes a smile. “Not anymore.”
“I don’t know if you’re being creepy right now or trying to be charming.”
“Was going for creepy, of course,” he says sarcastically.
“Carter, I appreciate the thought, but you need to go now.”
He stares for a long moment and then nods. “I get it. Logan got to you. Why am I not surprised?”
“It’s not that.”
“Isn’t it?” he throws back.
“Honestly, I don’t want to have anything to do with either of you. I don’t know if you’re both totally nuts or only one of you is sane, intent on making the other crazy. But I don’t want to get caught in the middle.”
“You already are, Mila.”
“You guys barely know me.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t change how I feel, and doesn’t change that you’re on his radar, and he’ll do everything within his power to seduce you just so I can’t have you.”
“First off, you can’t have me, but that has nothing to do with him. It has everything to do with you. And second, even if you are telling the truth, the pot’s soured. You two need to work your shit out. I don’t want to be a part of it.”
Suddenly, I hear sirens outside. I blink and then walk to the window. There are two patrol cars out front.
“What the hell?”
Carter looks outside, too, and snarls, “Fucking Logan. I’m going to kill him.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I’ll bet you a dollar that he called them and said I was here to kidnap you.”
“No, Officer Parker,” I say. “Carter Strike was not here attempting to kidnap me.”
He glances over his shoulder at Carter, who’s handcuffed in the back of his squad car. “Are you certain, ma’am? Because the caller said you would deny it. This man is known for intimidating women.”