Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I start to laugh again. “Your mom was always so sweet.”
“She’s still sweet.” He takes his cell phone I hold out to him and sets it on the table between us. Picking up his coffee, he studies me, shaking his head. “It’s so crazy seeing you after so many years. I really never thought I’d see you again.”
“We probably would have run into each other at some point when I came to visit, even if I didn’t move back.”
“Maybe.” He leans back in his chair. “Do you miss Chicago?”
“Surprisingly, no.” I cross one leg over the other. “I mean, I miss my friends and the people I used to work with, but I don’t really miss the city. I think I was starting to outgrow it, if that makes sense.”
“I can understand that.”
“So, how did you become a cop? I was always sure you’d be playing pro football.” I pick up my iced coffee and listen to him chuckle.
“That was the goal, but my sophomore year of college, I got injured and couldn’t play anymore. I was working toward my law degree at that point and had a couple of years left, but my ex found out she was pregnant with Keller. We needed money and health insurance, so I signed on with the police department. I’ve been a police officer ever since.”
“Have you thought about going back to school?”
“I’ve thought about it, but it’s just finding the time and the money,” he says, dragging his fingers through his thick brown hair that used to drive the girls in school crazy. Lincoln was always handsome and has just gotten better looking with time. And it helps that he’s not one of those guys who knows he looks good and is a dick about it.
“I can understand that. School is crazy-expensive. But honestly, if you ever do decide you want to go back, I’m really good at finding grants and stuff, so just let me know.”
“I’ll do that.” His face softens, and then his attention moves to someone behind me as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
I turn in my seat. My heart skydives into my stomach, and my knees tingle when my gaze collides with Bax’s, seeing the intense look on his face. He looks angry, and if I’m not mistaken, that anger is directed at me. Tugging his eyes off mine, he goes to the counter, where one of the girls who works here stands with a tray of drinks, and after saying something to her that makes her smile and blush, he picks it up and turns to leave.
Then, without sparing me another glance, he walks out of the coffee shop.
With my throat now burning, I turn back to Lincoln, who has his eyes on the door.
“Are you two dating?” he asks, focusing back on me.
“What? No.” I set down my drink. My hands are shaking so badly the ice in the cup was tinkling together.
“Does he know that?” He lifts a brow.
“Of course.”
“Then he wants to date you,” he tells me matter-of-factly.
“I…” I shake my head. Is he right? Was that whole scene because he was jealous? That seems preposterous, but then I think about him, and pancakes, and the blanket, and him just looking out for me… “I—”
“Go,” he says softly, cutting me off. “I’ll look out for your stuff until you get back.”
God, he’s so nice.
Pushing out of my seat, I leave my bag on the table and rush out of the coffee shop, stopping at the edge of the sidewalk to look both ways. When I see Bax getting into his truck down the block, I run in his direction, thankful that I wear sneakers to work every day.
“Bax!” I shout, and he stops, turning to face me with his jaw clenching.
“Go back to your date, Olivia.”
“I’m not on a date.” I close the distance between us. “I’m just having coffee with Lincoln,” I tell him, out of breath.
“Right,” he mutters.
“It is right.” I stop on the opposite side of the door from him since there is no space to get around it with him parked next to another large truck. “What was that about?” I wave my hand in the direction of the coffee shop.
“Nothing,” he grumbles.
“Nothing?” I repeat in disbelief. “You’re obviously mad at me.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s something,” I whisper so I don’t shout. “Why are you pissed?”
“All right.” He slams the door shut and places the cup holder he’s still holding on the hood of his truck. “You wanna know why I’m pissed?”
The way he asks that question makes me think my answer should be a resounding “no.”
“Yes.” I swallow.
“I’m pissed—” He ducks his head, bringing his face closer to mine. “Because I shouldn’t fucking care that you’re out having coffee with another guy.”
My lips part, and my heart starts to pound.