Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“You okay?” I ask, my voice softer now.
She nods, but I can see the tremble in her hands. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I did,” I say, stepping closer. “Nobody messes with you, Indie. Not on my watch.”
Her gaze meets mine, and there’s something there—something raw and unguarded that makes my chest tighten. “Why?” she whispers. “Why do you care so much?”
Because you’re mine, I want to say. Because the thought of anyone hurting you makes me see red. But I don’t. Instead, I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Because you’re worth it,” I say simply. “And a man’s got to fight for what he believes in every now and again to prove he’s worth his salt.” I smile, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
“I feel like I’ve been claimed,” she giggles.
“You have, baby. You can count on that. ” And then I pull her close, holding her like I’ll never let go.
Chapter Nine
Indie
Aunt Betty’s kitchen smells like cinnamon and vanilla, the familiar scent wrapping around me like a warm hug. But tonight, it offers little comfort. I sit at the table, staring at the mug of tea in front of me, untouched.
Aunt Betty bustles around the kitchen, her movements quick and efficient, though I know she’s itching to say something. Finally, she sets a plate of cookies in front of me and sits across the table, her sharp eyes studying me.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” she asks gently.
I shake my head, tears in my eyes. “I think it’s over.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Over? Last I checked, that man was ready to take on the world for you. What happened?”
I swallow hard, the words catching in my throat. “After Chad made a scene at the café–I mean–it’s just all so complicated. Why would any man want to tangle with that? I have so much baggage with Chad and my family. I never told him that Chad and I were engaged, hell–I almost married that asshole, Aunt Betty... I–I’m sure King thinks I don’t belong here.”
Aunt Betty scoffs, leaning back in her chair. “That man’s got more feelings for you than he knows what to do with.”
“I don’t know…”
“Oh, honey,” she says, her expression softening. “Men like King? They may not say a lot but they feel deep. When they care, they care hard. And losing someone they care about? Not gonna happen, not without a fight anyway.”
Her words make my chest ache. “What if he doesn’t want me back?”
Betty reaches across the table, taking my hand in hers. “That man’s never cared for anyone the way he cares for you–everyone in this town can see it all over his face when he looks at you. Don’t let fear steal your happiness.”
The lump in my throat grows, but I nod, gripping her hand tightly. “Thanks, Aunt Betty.” I sigh, pushing a hand through my hair. “I think I’m gonna turn in early tonight.”
She smiles, patting my hand. “Eat a cookie first. You’re gonna need your strength.”
I spend the rest of the night tossing and turning. My mind is a whirlwind of memories, fears, and hope. By morning, I know what I have to do.
I find King where I knew he’d be—out by the barn, tending to the horses. His back is to me, his strong hands brushing down Copper’s flank, his movements steady and sure. For a moment, I just watch him, my heart aching with how much I care for this man.
The crackle of the fire in the woodstove that sits in the corner does nothing to warm the icy fear that flows in my veins. I sit on the edge of a workbench and watch him, my fingers twisting together in my lap, his back to me, broad shoulders taut with rippling muscle.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Hi.”
His head turns slightly, but he doesn’t face me. “Hey, stranger.”
“Are you…angry with me?”
He exhales sharply, turning to face me at last. His eyes, dark and stormy, pin me in place. “Why didn’t you tell me about the wedding, Indie?”
“I was going to—”
He sighs. “I wish you would have. You didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. That hurts.”
His words slice deep, but I refuse to let the tears pooling in my eyes fall. “I was afraid,” I admit, my voice trembling. “Afraid you’d see me differently. That you’d think I didn’t belong here. And maybe I don’t.”
His jaw tightens, and he crosses his arms over his chest, a fortress of muscle and stubbornness. “You’re from a whole other world, Indie. Hollywood royalty, runaway bride—hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got paparazzi hiding in the trees.”
“That’s not fair,” I rise to my feet. “You don’t know what it’s like to grow up with that kind of pressure, with everyone expecting you to be perfect, to marry the perfect man—”