Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
“Hey, wait.” My voice comes our harder than I wanted it to. None of this makes any sense at all and I’m struggling to finish a single thought.
“What did you say your name was?” Griffin pipes up, acting as my wingman, which gives me time to calm the hell down. All I know right now is one thing and it’s unsettling: Rose saw me and she took off. Fuck. What the hell did I do to her? My throat’s tight as Rose’s defensive line informs us that she’s named Renee.
“Renee, I’m Griffin,” he says and reaches out his hand as if she’d shake it. Her gaze settles on his hand a moment and I take in the crowd. Every pair of eyes here is on us. Well shit, this is not how I thought this would go down. Not here. And not with the girl I spent hours with years ago, at a time when I needed someone and she seemed to need me too.
This isn’t a weird dream. It’s a nightmare.
“This behemoth is Brody. He’s from up north, that’s why he has no manners.” Griffin’s joke actually makes Renee laugh, although it’s short and filled with nervousness. Looking between the two of them, there’s something there, but it has nothing to do with me and Rose.
“Her name is Rose, right?” I ask Renee, not wanting to waste any more time. “She lives around here?”
Renee’s smile fades.
Griffin elbows me in my side, making me wince and then I give him a death stare. “You sound like a stalker,” he grits out between his teeth, low enough for no one but the three of us to hear. Again, he actually makes Renee smile, although he’s looking at me while I’m looking at her and she’s staring at him.
Clenching my hands and breathing out slowly, I don’t know what the hell to do. So I go with honesty. “A few years ago, I met a girl named Rose and … look, if it’s her and I did something to her …” Fuck, what did I do? I’ve never made a girl take off before. Never in my life has a girl run from me. A deep-seated chill takes over.
“No, no,” Renee says and it’s genuine, her words spoken quickly to stop my mind from wandering. She seems to catch herself, implying with a shake of her head that I’ve got it wrong. It’s clear she knows the story.
“It’s just …” Renee trails off, clearing her throat as a gust of wind goes by and her gaze dances between the two of us. Her cheeks are redder now and her defenses are falling. “Look, if she wanted to talk to you—”
“Hey, sorry, had to get my wallet,” a small voice cuts in from behind Renee. The beautiful woman I remember so well doesn’t look me in the eyes. Her heels click as she takes her place beside Renee, whose slight relief has vanished.
“My name is Magnolia, not Rose. Sorry,” she says, practically choking on her apology, “I think you have the wrong girl.”
Renee’s head tilts ever so slightly, the corners of her lips turning down as Rose’s … or Magnolia’s … cheeks turn red all the way up to her temple where little wisps of hair have gone wild from the wind. Or maybe from her running.
I don’t bother to respond as the air between the four of us thickens. Griffin, the smart-ass that he is, smiles broadly and offers his hand. “Well, nice to meet you, Magnolia. You can run hella fast in those heels,” he jokes and Renee’s smile is hidden behind a cough as Magnolia stiffly takes his hand. Hers is so small in his. I still can’t speak.
“What did I do?” I ask her, making her chest rise and fall faster.
“Maybe give us a minute?” Renee suggests, turning her shoulder to us as she tugs at Magnolia’s elbow.
There’s a spark between us when she glances up at me. I felt it when she first noticed me a moment ago, and I feel it now. It’s scorching hot even as the wind blows by.
Her hair is pushed to the side, falling across her back from her shoulder and spreading goosebumps along her smooth skin. With the gust comes a hint of her scent. Maybe her shampoo, maybe perfume, I don’t know but it carries a memory with it. One night.
“I’m sorry,” I say and my throat is tight as the words are forced out. Fuck. I feel like a piece of shit, gazing down at a woman I thought I had a connection with, a woman who obviously wants nothing to do with me.
For a second, I have a thought that calms my racing mind. Maybe she’s married. Maybe she doesn’t want to admit she knows me or remember that night because she doesn’t want to think of that night when she’s currently committed and happy with someone else.