Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“I gotta go, but just think about what I said.”
I turn to watch him walk away, then let myself into my apartment and shut and lock the door behind me.
Going right to my bedroom I change out of my work clothes, and put on a pair of jeans, a sweater, then slip on a pair of flats. Clay told me that he would be here by six at the latest, which doesn’t give me very long to come to terms with what Tucker said or how I should feel about it.
One thing I know is I’m annoyed—annoyed that he would show up at my door to basically talk shit about his brother. Even if he thinks he’s doing the noble thing of looking out for me, it’s still messed up. I would never—not ever go to someone one of my siblings was seeing and tell them that they should back off. First, because I don’t know how they feel about that person, and for all I know that person could actually be their person and I could mess that up. Second, if I ever did that to one of my sisters or brothers, they would lose their flipping minds. Third, it’s just dickish. Okay, so maybe I do know how I feel about it, and it’s not good.
I already knew that I needed to be cautious when dealing with Clay and it’s honestly not surprising that he’s dated hundreds of women. Plus, who am I to judge when I’ve dated more than my fair share of guys. For me, Clay is different than any of the guys I’ve spent time with and maybe he feels that way about me. Only time will tell.
Coming out of my thoughts when there is a knock on the door, I go to it and check the peephole, finding Clay standing on the other side.
“Hey,” I greet, swinging the door in.
His eyes do a scan of my face before he leans down touching his mouth to mine. “How was work?”
“Busy.” I stand back to let him in. “How was your day?”
“All right.” He looks around then asks. “I thought I saw Tucker leaving the parking lot when I was pulling in. Did he stop by?”
“He did.” I walk to the kitchen and open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water.
“You’re supposed to show at the station at seven for your statement.”
“He wasn’t here to take my statement.” I put the bottle of water to my lips and tip it back, hating that Tucker placed me in such an awkward position. One where if I lie it could blow up in my face and if I don’t, I could hurt their relationship.
“Then why was he here, Mouse?”
I let out a breath and meet his gaze and decided that honesty is the best course of action in this situation. “He came to talk to me about you.”
“About me?” He walks around into the kitchen then stands a few feet from me, planting his feet wide apart and crossing his arms over his chest. “And what exactly did he want to tell you about me?”
“I feel like you should ask him.”
“I’m asking you.”
“All right.” I shake my head. “He told me I need to be careful when it comes to you.”
“Careful?”
That one word sounds like a question, and I shrug. “Yes, careful.”
“All right what else did he say?”
“Nothing.” I take another drink of water.
“So, he took the time out of his day to come knocking on your door, just to tell you that you need to be careful when it comes to me.”
“He was actually waiting for me when I got home.” I say, then instantly regret opening my mouth, because his expression that had been blank gets hard.
“He was waiting for you?”
“Don’t we need to go?” I ask, hoping to get out of this.
“What the fuck else did he say, Willow?”
“Don’t fucking curse at me, Clay.” I snap then add. “And what does it matter? You’re obviously inside my apartment, so I’m not taking his suggestion to heart.”
“It matters, now what else did he say? Was it about me and Naomi?”
“What?” I shake my head, wondering what he’s talking about.”
“His wife—did he tell you about me and his wife?”
“You were with his wife?” I breathe.
“Fuck no, I went on a couple of dates with her before she even met him, then one day he tells us that he’s dating someone and it’s getting serious, and it was her.”
“Oh.” Relief swamps my system. “Why would you think he would have told me about her?”
“Because a while back she showed up at my house and she tried to shove her tongue down my throat.”
“She what?” I gasp totally horrified.
“It doesn’t fucking matter, now what else did he say?”
“I think it does matter because who the heck does something like that firstly when they’re married and secondly when it’s their husband’s brother. That is just—” My nose scrunches, “so messed up, not to mention gross.”