Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Chapter 39
Boomer
It’s not waking up alone that bothers me so much as it’s the chatter going on outside the tent already.
My exhaustion from the night before, partnered with the enthusiastically athletic way Drake and I used our bodies last night, left me dead to the world.
The heat in the tent tells me that it has to be late morning, possible midday already, and I want to shake Drake for letting me sleep so late.
“Have you seen Boomer?” I hear Ugly ask. “He’s not in his tent.”
“Uh.” That’s Drake’s voice, and I freeze wondering how in the world he’s going to get us out of this one.
I hate that my first instinct is to want him to lie.
“He’s in Drake’s tent,” Kincaid says, a little laughter in his voice. “Let the man sleep.”
Drake stays silent, neither confirming nor denying what my boss just said with such ease it baffles me as to why I’ve had such a damn problem with any of it in the first place.
I haven’t made up my mind as to what I should do until after searching through Drake’s duffel bag, looking for something to wear. I tug on a pair of flannel lounge pants, grateful for his extra height because it gives my larger frame a little more room to fill in.
My hands are trembling as I reach for the zipper. I guess there’s a small chance that I can slip out of here undetected… that doesn’t feel right, not after what Drake and I said to each other last night.
My challenge with all of this has been my own problem, not stemming off of the atmosphere around me. I’ve never once felt like I wasn’t safe to be who I am. The thought never crossed my mind that I would be looked at differently if anyone or everyone in Cerberus knew the real me.
It’s these thoughts that give me confidence as I unzip the tent. I do head in the direction of mine. If I’m going to face my teammates, I need the armor of my own clothes to do it.
I change out of the lounge pants quickly, pulling on my own jeans, a shirt, and my boots before leaving my tent. I have to do it quickly before losing my nerve, but as I walk in the direction of the picnic tables where people are starting to congregate, I lock eyes with Drake.
There’s an apology in his but it’s also tainted with worry and doubt. He looks terrified as I draw closer, and the tremble in his chin has the power to rip me open from the inside.
I told him some days will be harder than others, but this isn’t one of those days.
“Coffee?” he asks as I get closer, his eyes searching mine as if he’s trying to figure out how I’m going to react.
“Thank you,” I tell him, taking the proffered cup from his hand and pressing my lips to his.
It isn’t a deep, intense kiss, just a small brush of our lips, but he understands the meaning, and it leaves him stunned, staring back at me as if he’s seen an alien.
“Breathe,” I tell him softly.
He nods, but it takes another few seconds before I see his chest rise with a breath.
There’s no burst of energy from the crowd. No one screams that it’s about time. The group doesn’t break out in applause, and, more importantly, God doesn’t strike me down from Heaven.
I don’t have to come out to these people. I don’t have to explain that I’m in love with this man or make excuses as to why it took so long for me to get my life together where Drake is concerned.
“I thought you were making that for me,” Ugly grumbles as he walks closer. “Can I get a cup? Are we trading kisses for coffee because I’m tired enough right now?”
“Get your own,” I growl playfully.
“Coffee or man?” Ugly challenges.
“Both,” I mutter, loving the warmth of Drake close to my back as we cross to a picnic table and take a seat.
My friend’s laughter follows me all the way.
Breakfast is quick and simple, dry cereal and protein bars since we won’t be here too long today, and I can’t help but watch my man’s mouth as he eats.
“You’re going to make me hard,” he warns after looking around to make sure no one is paying us any attention.
“Good,” I tell him, grateful my back is to everyone. “No reason I should be the only one suffering with a hard-on.”
His chuckle is powerful enough to heal the sick. I’m certain of it.
It cuts short as his eyes dart over my shoulder.
“What is she doing here?” Drake asks as he stands.
I do the same, turning around to see Colton Matthews, a homicide detective with Farmington police and Dominic’s son-in-law, rush toward a female that has walked around the edge of one of the cabins.