Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
I’ve been avoiding it the past few days because—
Well, because Shepherd.
Go ahead. Tell me it’s hilariously stupid and pathetic.
Although, to my credit, I’ve also not wanted to linger around there in the public eye and risk feeding our little image problem. I especially don’t want some idiot snapping pics of me looking pensive while jogging, heartache in my eyes.
There’s nothing worse than the entire world seeing you all moody while you’re sweatier than a melting popsicle.
But today, I decided I’m done hiding.
Life goes on, even when you’re a billionaire’s daughter stuck in a crazy, confusing thing you can’t define with Seattle’s most eligible bachelor.
The ocean air slaps my face, but it has that extra hint of summer warmth that makes it pleasant.
I’ve swapped out my running pants for shorts, perfect for keeping pace with an overactive pup who still likes to trip over her lanky legs.
I’m actually thankful one of us is oblivious to how messed up things are.
Molly tosses her head back in joy the minute we step onto the beach, trying to run headlong into the surf. I grab her leash tighter with both hands, holding her back as a group of harbor seals sun themselves.
I fall into my stride, my breath coming sharp and fast.
She’s used to this routine, thankfully, and she falls into a well-behaved pace beside me, her friends from the sea temporarily forgotten.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I really shouldn’t have stayed over at his place the other night.
I shouldn’t have gone there at all, knowing how helpless I get around him.
The man deserves better after sharing so much of himself.
I couldn’t be more wrong for him.
He’s fought and bled for his right to privacy.
What am I? Just an influencer who basks in the public eye, thriving on the spotlight. It’s the only way I know how to help the world.
For better or worse, our association makes me more popular—especially in the perverse way it is now.
But even if I wasn’t an influencer, he thinks I’m too young.
He may be right.
If the man could ever bring himself to take a second crack at marriage, he’ll want a wife. Someone who can do the whole wife thing instead of just floating around his life, warming his bed and going about her business.
Not great ground for something more.
Not that we could be anything.
For now, it’ll be a miracle if I can help nail the coffin shut on the same scandal he hired me to avoid, rather than catalyzing it.
Molly barks and looks up at me with concern.
“It’s okay, girl,” I say, stroking her head.
I swear, the dog was a therapist in her last life. Or a guardian angel, seeing how well she reads emotions.
My breath comes faster now as I stop dragging and push back into a run, wishing the wind could wash away the feel of his hands on my body, his scent that shouldn’t still be lingering, the feel of him inside me.
If only I’d left before the wine.
I didn’t need more baggage, more bitter memories to try and forget.
I already come by that honestly as a Lancaster.
Even if he’s hands down the best lover I’ve ever had.
Hot as hell, considerate, and devilishly good at working a woman’s body. Even better at leaving kisses that linger like a sting.
I only get a few paces before I stop, feeling like I’m buried under a ton of bricks.
Yep, this is bad.
It’s going to hurt like voodoo pins straight to my heart, isn’t it?
Walking into that office soon and acting like he never touched me.
Like I didn’t just lose myself in his eyes and come on him half a dozen times.
Like I didn’t bawl my eyes out after he told me about Serena and his family secrets.
Like I didn’t just slip dangerously closer to a mad, mad love for Shepherd Foster.
I have to concentrate on running, until the intensity passes.
I can’t even lie to myself.
And his dead wife, it made me jealous in a messed-up way.
Annoyed and hurt that he ever gave his love to someone so unfaithful.
Sad at the way he sounded when he mentioned her name.
So vulnerable. So soft. So undeserved.
She’s dead now, of course.
There’s no point in holding a grudge against a dead woman over a man I’m not actually with.
But between her and that douchebag she cheated on Shepherd with, he almost got convicted of a murder he didn’t commit. He certainly had the scabs ripped off a rotten start to life he just wanted buried.
They destroyed him once, and he’s built himself back up, but hearing him talk about it when it’s clear he doesn’t talk about it with just anyone...
It’s a lot.
Too much for my heart to handle.
Today, of all days, I’m aching and dizzy with bruises.
Stupid, again.
Absolute buffoonery for even getting this emotionally invested in him.
But how can I help myself?