Far Cry_A Talbott’s Cove Novel by Kate Canterbary

Author:Kate Canterbary [Canterbary, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-946352-21-7
Publisher: Vesper Press
Published: 2019-08-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

JJ

Net Operating Loss: excess of business expenses over revenues.

Once again, Brooke was going to do what she wanted, how she wanted. It was up to me to decide whether I'd chase after her this time.

By the time I rolled up beside her, she'd waded all the way to the end of my street. Lowering the window, I called, "You're being ridiculous. Get in."

"Go home, Jed."

I wanted to let myself believe I wouldn't have followed her if it wasn't an emergency, but I didn't know about that. At this point, there wasn't much I wouldn't do for her, even when she insisted she didn't want it. And this was the tricky truth about Brooke: she did want it.

I pulled ahead of her, stopped the car, and stepped out into the snow. I pressed a hand to my heart and watched as she slipped and bobbled on the slick road, a fine layer of snowflakes crowning her head. Fickle, headstrong, and too fucking breathtaking for me to stand. And then I darted toward her, grabbing her around the waist and tossing her over my shoulder while she screeched and flailed. I dropped her into the back seat like a beautiful bag of potting soil.

When I settled behind the steering wheel, Brooke shouted, "That was unnecessary."

"I asked you nicely," I replied. "Several times."

"I know how to handle myself in a snowstorm," she argued.

I glanced at her in the rearview mirror as I drove through the village. "It's a good skill to have."

"I don't need anyone coming to my rescue."

I could hear her pouting. "Never crossed my mind that you would." I pulled into her driveway, turned off the car. Shifting to face her, I said, "I told you I wasn't letting you walk home alone in this storm and I didn't. I'm not letting you deal with this"—I hooked a thumb over my shoulder, toward the sprawling estate—"by yourself. Understood?"

Instead of agreeing outright, she climbed out of the car and said, "This is Vegas. What happens here, stays here."

I pocketed my keys and followed her to the door. "Everyone knows that mandate to be false."

She glanced at me, shrugged. "It's not false when I'm in charge."

I matched that shrug. "Whatever you want, Bam. I'm not going to fight you on the validity of tourism slogans."

Gripping the door handle, her expression tightened. Her lips parted as if she was ready to drop a counterstrike on me, but then she narrowed her eyes and said, "Promise me I can trust you."

"There's never been a time when you couldn't trust me," I replied. That wasn't good enough. The unyielding shine of her eyes told me so. She wanted me kneeling before her, pledging sword and skin. "Yes, I promise you can trust me, Brooke."

She pushed open the front door and we stepped into chaos. Every light in the house seemed to be lit. Competing televisions blared. The scent of fryer grease was thick in the air. People dressed in a rainbow of scrubs were everywhere,

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