Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 21003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
“Hey, bro, what happened to your jacket?” my sister asks, coming up to me with a steaming mug. She pokes a finger through my coat, which now has a nice tear right through the middle of it.
“Snagged it on a nail. What is this?” I snatch it and breathe in the hot cocoa. Damn it, she’s in her Christmas spirit even more. I hand it back.
“Oh, no. I’ll pay for it.” She reaches out with her free hand to touch it. I stop her before she worries even more. My sister has a heart of gold. A lot of times she reminds me of my mother, and that both concerns me and makes me happy. She brings her hand to her mouth. She works so hard to get by as a schoolteacher. I love how dedicated she is.
“Don’t worry about it, Chloe. Who is the woman that lives across the street? She drives the little four-door Hyundai Elantra,” I ask, attempting to appear nonchalant.
“That’s Carrie. I’m not sure what her last name is, but she’s super sweet.” I would beg to differ greatly. Not that it matters, because that little woman just met her match when she crossed my path. She can be as fiery as she wants because she owes me her life when she almost cost me mine. Is that an overexaggeration? Maybe. Do I care? No. I want her, and I’ll have her. It’s what I do, and I don’t lose.
Now how am I going to get a woman when all I do is work?
“What does she do?” I ask.
“I believe she works as a vet tech. Why are you asking?”
“Why you so nosy?” I shoot back, glaring at my little sister.
“You’re one to talk,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes at me.
I purse my lips, wondering how the hell I’m going to get her to see things my way and how I’m going to change my own ways — more problems to solve. Luckily, I am one hell of a problem solver. One thing I sure as hell need is a new damn coat. This thing is ruined. When I was young and poor, this would easily get patched up with a thing of duct tape or sewn up, but now, I can’t be seen walking around with a giant strip of duct tape or a crooked stitch.
“I need to get going. I’ll be back later on today, okay?”
“Are you seriously leaving? I still have a tree to decorate.” I glare at my sister.
“Nice try with that shit. Now, I told you I’ll be back later if you need anything else hung up. If not, I’ll be back to join you for dinner.” She’s always trying to get me in the Christmas spirit, but that’s not going to work.
“Okay,” she says. I walk away, pulling out my phone as I do. My gaze lifts up toward the house across the street, and I discreetly take down her address, typing it into my phone before walking straight over to my new SUV. My old vehicle was in an accident last week when my driver, Maxim hit a deer after he dropped off medical supplies to his mother, and thankfully, he had only minor scrapes and cuts.
I make a U-turn out of her cul-de-sac and then drive back to the main road as the snow picks up. Damn it, I hate winter and, most importantly, Christmas. It’s the time of year when everyone pretends to be happy for others when they’re miserable themselves. They waste their hard-earned money and time buying gifts for people who don’t even appreciate the effort. Some people work themselves to death. I can’t even understand how my sister still manages to love the holiday after what it did to our parents.
My father was perpetually drunk, and my mother pretended to be happy when my grandparents would visit and spew their judgments about how she could do nothing right. It’s probably the one thing my sister and I managed to get right — no in-laws. They are the worst. She saw what mothers-in-law were like and wants nothing to do with them. I’ve never seen her with a boyfriend or even a girlfriend. She may love Christmas, but she doesn’t have anyone to share it with. It’s why I’m here. It’s why I will always be there for her as long as she needs me.
My mind goes to the woman whom I scared off—the cute, petite, cinnamon-colored girl with bright caramel eyes and puffy pink lips. Damn, I can picture her bright pink cheeks as the cold air swept through the area. Does she even realize what an image she created?
The beauty before me had held me captive. It was so perfect that I forgot the moment of fear and anger that had filled me. I press my voice button on the phone and call my assistant.