Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Until the day Trinity, the mother of his child, calls him in tears, begging him to come get her and their son, Wyatt.
She's been attacked by her fiance, and she needs a safe place to recover and get back on her feet.
What she isn't expecting is for the father of her child to be ready to protect her and get revenge for what happened to her.
Jimmie might be known as a light-hearted jokester, but when it comes to those he cares about, he's ready to go to war.
And for Trinity and Wyatt? He'll light the entire world on fire to keep them safe.
**Please read the "Note from the Author" at the beginning of the book before deciding to read. Thanks
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Jimmie
My keys clanged loudly in the otherwise silent house as I tossed them onto the kitchen counter. Bracing a hand against the wall, I toed my dirty boots off, grimacing at the smell of my feet. It’d been a long, hot day of running cattle, and I smelled just about as bad as the cows themselves did. I was in desperate need of a hot shower and clean clothes.
Snatching the shoe powder from the shelf built into the wall by the front door, I sprinkled some into my boots, then headed for the laundry room to peel my sweaty, disgusting clothes off and toss them straight into the washer. After throwing a laundry pod in, I closed the lid and hit start, making my way through the living room and to my bedroom.
I was just starting the shower when my fucking phone rang. Goddammit. A man couldn’t even get a second of peace in his own home, even when he lived alone.
Growling beneath my breath, I made my way to the laundry room, where I’d left the damned device. But all my irritation at being bothered bled away when I saw Trinity’s name on the screen.
Trinity and I had a… complicated history. We’d messed around in college a bit. I’d pursued her endlessly. She’d been one of the only women to ever turn me down, and I’d become hell bent on proving to her that she couldn’t resist me. One night, we got drunk at a frat party and ended up sleeping together. Neither of us was interested in a relationship, but we couldn’t deny the sex had been fucking phenomenal. Hell, it was still some of the best sex I’d ever had.
But then, shortly after we began our fling, she went MIA for a few weeks. Disappeared from college. Completely ignored all my calls and texts. And when she’d shown back up, she’d informed me that not only was she pregnant, but she was moving away to live with her sister because her parents had kicked her out. We’d kept contact, and when her due date drew closer, I drove across numerous states so I could be at the hospital with her and see our little boy be born.
Since then, we’d been managing this coparenting thing the best we could while being states away from each other. I’d finished college, and I’d bought a large piece of farmland, finally getting to do what I wanted despite my father turning his back on me for not going to law school. I got to have Wyatt, our little boy, three times a year for a month at a time, and we did video calls twice a week so I could talk to Wyatt.
Our setup wasn’t perfect, but Trinity was attending one of the best med schools available where she was at, and I didn’t want to rip that from her just so we could be closer. And while we’d toyed with the idea of me moving to be closer to them, she’d insisted that living there wasn’t where she planned to settle down and had instead urged me to follow my dreams here.
Even though Trinity and I had ended things several years ago—almost five years ago, to be exact—I still had a soft spot for her. She was the only woman outside of my found family that I had a soft spot for. Seeing her name on my screen always bled out any aggravation I felt.
But she was calling outside of our normal time, which meant something was wrong. And that settled with me about as well as swallowing battery acid would.
“Hey,” I said when I answered. Turning, I leaned my bare back against the washer and crossed my arm over my chest, resting my hand in the elbow of my other arm. “What’s up?”
She sniffled. I straightened. When she sobbed, my heart stopped in my chest. “Trinity?” I asked, my voice rough. “What’s going on?” Trinity wasn’t a crier. I’d never known her to cry. The only other time she’d cried was when our little boy had been placed on her chest and she got to look at him for the first time.
“I—” She hiccupped. “I need help, Jimmie.” She was crying harder now, making whatever she tried to say next unintelligible.
“Baby, stop,” I urged, the term slipping before I could stop it. This wasn’t Trinity. Trinity was headstrong and fierce. Even when the world was beating her down, she kept her chin held high and fire burned in her eyes as red as her copper hair.
“I need you to breathe, Trinity. Can you do that for me? Can you breathe, baby? Deep inhale. Come on.” Her shaky inhale reached my ears. “That’s it. Good girl. Slowly release it.” Once she released it, I said, “Again. Deep inhale.”
We followed that pattern three more times, and finally, she managed to croak, “Can you come get us? Please, Jimmie. And you’ll need your truck. We can’t stay here any longer.”