Is it Wednesday again already? I have two snippets for you today, one from SPEEDING and another from FIGHT FOR ME.
From SPEEDING, Chapter 12
“It’s perfect!” Annie exclaimed.
Kendall appraised their handiwork and dusted her hands across her jean clad thighs. “What do you think your Dad will say?”
“He’d say,” she started, deepening her voice to mimic Reid, “at least it’s not pink,” before dissolving into a fit of giggles.
Kendall couldn’t help but laugh along with with her. Reid’s guest room had been turned into a purple haven for Annie, complete with a desk and laptop. She felt it was the least they could do, and since Reid refused to take money from Kendall for the bills, she had plenty to make Annie’s room truly her own. “He’ll love that you have a room that’s a reflection of you,” she finally said.
“I hope so. We used three coats of paint. This place will be purple forever!”
Kendall couldn’t help but grin. After all Annie had been through, she didn’t expect her to smile and giggle so easily. “He loves us. He wouldn’t care if we painted the whole house pink.”
Annie shook her head, her ponytail flying. “He’d hate pink.”
“Maybe, but if it made us happy, he’d live with it. That’s just the way he is.”
Kendall was right, and it awed Annie. “I’ve never known anyone like that.”
“Me either, sweetie. Me either.”
From FIGHT FOR ME
“Detective Davis offered personal police protection,” Cassidy told Dylan over pizza. She had opted for hand held fare after last night’s attempt at casserole ended with a very frustrated Dylan and a very dirty table.
“Refuse it,” Dylan growled.
She already had, but was interested in Dylan’s hostility. “Why?”
“I don’t trust that man as far as I can throw him. He is not watching over you.”
Well, then. “Proprietary much?”
“I protect what’s mine,” he stated plainly.
She ran her gaze over his long, tough body. He was gaining mobility in his right arm, but she doubted he could pull the trigger and hit what he meant. “Dylan,” she started, cut off by another low growl.
“I can protect you better with this half-workin’ body that that bastard can fully functional.” He took a sip of water. “How do you know he wasn’t the one who blew up your precious Blue, anyway?”
She scrunched up her face. “He’s a detective.”
She said it as if that meant something. “The other cops on your brother’s case don’t trust him. Chris thinks he’s as crooked as a dog’s hind leg.”
She shook her head. “Crooked as a dog’s hind leg? Where are you from?”