Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
But it wasn’t a bad different. Just not the same as it once had been.
Sean was scared.
He was scared to touch me. Scared to leave me. Scared to let me do my job.
He literally would’ve wrapped me up in bubble wrap if he thought he could get away with it.
I picked up my telephone and dialed my best friend, hoping she’d give me some advice that would help me deal with this crazy, overprotective man of mine.
It’d been four months since I’d lost our baby, and four months since I’d seen the same man that I’d been sitting next to a hospital bed with, discussing what we would name our child when he or she came.
The phone rang, and not five seconds later my best friend in the whole wide world answered with a frustrated, “Hello?”
The sound of a baby crying in the background made my heart pang.
“I need some help,” I said without preamble. “Sean still won’t touch me.”
“What’d he do now?” she asked warily.
“It’s what he won’t do. I don’t know what to do,” I told my best friend. “He doesn’t even look at me the same. He doesn’t touch me unless it’s to hug me, and when he hugs me, it’s only long enough to act like he’s not trying to get away from me.”
I plunked backwards onto the bed, and watched my hot, bearded paramedic mow the front lawn.
Something had to give, and it wasn’t going to be me.
She hummed, then cursed succulently. “Fuck you, cocksucker.”
“Did you just call one of your kids a cocksucker?” I asked worriedly.
“No,” she snapped. “It was Downy’s fucking dog. She ate my banana bread!”
I snickered softly under my breath, and then couldn’t help it, and busted a gut.
“Oh, God,” I wiped tears from my eyes. “She didn’t mean to.”
“Didn’t mean to my ass,” she grumbled. “That bitch is a bitch, pure and simple. She watched me the entire time she leaned over my plate and ate it. She knew exactly what she was doing.”
Downy’s dog was a police K-9 officer and really was a good dog…when she wanted to be.
“Hey,” she interrupted my laughing. “I heard that there’s another litter of puppies from the same sire that Mocha came from.”
My eyebrows lifted.
“Did you ask for his number like I asked you?” I asked hopefully.
“Yep,” she confirmed. “And I also got the name of a woman who’s married to a supreme badass. Guess what!”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and frowned when I saw all of the dust on the blades of the ceiling fan. At least I can say that I’ve never seen the ceiling fan turned off, so how could I know it was dirty?
“What?” I asked, standing up and heading to the wall where the switch for the fan was and flipped it on and off a few times to see if it was just off.
It wasn’t.
Sean had purchased a repossessed mobile home from an auction and had moved it to the land that I now called my own—my own with Sean—a few weeks after I was released from the hospital.
It was the biggest piece of shit that I’d ever lived in, and that was even including my own shitty humble abode where I’d stayed for the first few months of my time in Mooresville. But it was mine and Sean’s, and I loved it.
We’d broken ground on a small country-style pier and beam home that was expected to be finished mid next year.
I could see the level pad from the window I was standing next to, and every time I saw the progress of it, I got even more excited.
Sean passed my window again, his face dripping with sweat.
He was wearing faded tight blue jeans, a brown leather belt, his black motorcycle boots, and a frown.
Sweat dripped down the tight planes of his abs, and his eyes were covered in a pair of aviator sunglasses that were literally so damn sexy on him that I wanted to run out and jump on him.
My luck, though, he’d just push me off of him and apologize for doing nothing like he always did.
“Are you even listening to me?” Aspen growled.
My lips twitched. “Yes, sorry, keep going.”
“The man that does the dogs is actually part of the Dixie Wardens, but they’re out of Benton, Louisiana,” she said. “His name is Trance. There’s a member’s wife that trains the dogs once they’re a little older. Helps them become protection dogs.”
My lips tipped up into a full-out grin as I made my way down the hall to the kitchen.
Grabbing one of the dusting towels out of the drawer next to the fridge, I headed back into the bedroom and stepped up onto the bed.
The ceiling fan had to be cleaned. If it wasn’t going to work, I wasn’t going to stare at that disgusting sight.