Jared & Sugar Westin’s Home

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She studied the room. If this was Jared’s bedroom, she could only imagine where he housed his weapons. Under the bed. In drawers. No doubt there was a safe somewhere, but he would want easy access. She rolled to the side and draped her arm over the edge, running her fingers along the underside of the mattress until she found—gotcha—a handgun holstered closer than his alarm clock.

…Hands knitted together, they headed into his garage. It was everything she would’ve guessed. Expansive and expensive, it housed trucks and SUVs that somehow mimicked Jared. Tough. Dark. Mysterious. Some of the vehicles were blacked out, from windows to headlights to car emblems. Some dared her to touch the gleaming chrome, while others were jacked ceiling high with lift kits and big tires that would make a country boy cream his pants. Collectively, all intimidated at a standstill, very much like their owner.

…Talk about a dream range. His house was tactical, but this range was beyond impressive. Technically advanced, it had every gunslinger bell and whistle she could’ve come up with.

…He shrugged, playing down the humongous mansion, the elite-forces firing range, and the fancy-schmancy car garage he’d just strolled them through. Humble and Jared were two words never pinned together, but there they were. –Westin’s Chase

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