Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Not on my fucking watch.
Jumping out of bed, I threw on a pair of jeans and some boots, moving quickly and quietly down the stairs and out the door. Pausing only to lock the door behind me, I jogged around to the back of the building to approach the lot from the alley.
I scanned the shadowy lot from the back, seeing no one. Hearing nothing. But my skin was blanketed with gooseflesh in the heat—something wasn’t right. I could sense it.
Slowly, I walked toward the front of the lot, which was dimly lit by streetlamps. Movement caught my eye, and I turned my head sharply to the right.
A flash of white inside the MG.
My shoulders and neck lost their tension. What the fuck was she doing, trying to sleep in her car?
Running a hand through my hair, still damp from the shower, I wondered what to do. I didn’t want to scare her, but I couldn’t let her stay out here in the parking lot. As I approached the driver’s side window, I saw her trying to unzip her dress in the back. But she wasn’t having much luck, either because she couldn’t reach the zipper or the front seat of the MG was too small, and suddenly she dropped her forehead to the steering wheel and began banging it in frustration.
That’s when I tapped on the window.
She screamed, of course. I held up my hands and backed away from the glass. “Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just me.”
She put a hand on her heart and closed her eyes, breathing hard. Then she opened the car door and got out, looking embarrassed and guilty and maybe a little bit scandalized at the sight of me without a shirt on. I noticed she’d removed the tiara and let her hair down. It hung in long, messy waves past her shoulders.
“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. I know I shouldn’t be here.” She eyeballed my bare chest, then quickly looked away.
“Why are you here? I thought you were going to find somewhere to stay.”
“Well, after I got something to eat at the diner, I tried calling both inns in town, but they were booked.” She looked me in the eye. “Truth be told, I can’t really afford their prices anyway. So I just came back.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Well, I can’t let you sleep in your car.”
“But I have nowhere else to go. Can’t you just pretend you don’t know I’m here?” she pleaded.
That was out of the question. But what was I supposed to do with her? It was too late to call my sister. Should I drive her out to the motel on Highway 31? And then what? Pay for the room myself? Then I’d have to go out there and get her tomorrow. I could let her stay on the couch at my place, but was that too weird? I was debating calling Cole and asking for his advice—he always did the right thing—when I saw a tear slip down her cheek.
“Hey, it’s—it’s okay,” I said. “Don’t cry.”
“It’s not okay,” she said, weeping into her hands. “My new life is already just as big a mess as my old one. I’m trying so hard to be brave and handle things on my own, but maybe this is a sign I can’t. Maybe I should just go back to Belle Meade and marry the tycoon.”
“Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true. And it’s my own damn fault. I mean, I’m thirty years old! I should have my life figured out by now. But I was a coward. And I was complacent. I could have walked away when I wasn’t so desperate, but I never did. I deserve to sleep on the street like a vagabond.”
“For fuck’s sake, Blair.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to sleep on the street.”
“I have no choice,” she sobbed. Then all of a sudden, she moved so close the backs of her hands were resting on my chest.
I could smell her perfume—sure enough, there was something vanilla about it—and her bare, trembling shoulders were begging me to put my arms around them. I had to shove my hands in my pockets to keep from embracing her.
“Look, you can—you can stay with me,” I choked out.
“What?” She sniffed and looked up. “Stay with you where?”
“My apartment. I live above the garage.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that.” She backed up and touched her collarbone. “It wouldn’t be right.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t really have a choice, Blair. I’m not leaving you on the street, you don’t have money for a motel, and it’s the middle of the night.”
She blinked. “I guess you’re right. But I hate to impose. It’s so tacky.”
Impose, as if she’d shown up uninvited to a garden party. “Just . . . get your stuff and come on,” I said gruffly.