Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Yes. I want to know how you feel, and I don’t care if it’s ugly.” I would take whatever she wanted to give me—whatever she was.
Her eyes narrowed. “How I feel about you isn’t ugly, and that’s the problem. I moved here so I could lick my wounds in peace, and you appeared, all gorgeous and smart and funny and so damned concerned about me. And you tell me you’re in the coast guard, and I figure oceanographers can’t get hurt in the coast guard, right?”
I opened my mouth, then shut it again, because anything I said would only dig me deeper into this hole I created, and right now it was the size of the Grand Canyon.
“And then you let me get close to you! And Finley! And suddenly, I’m waking up again, and I start looking forward to things like seeing you. And I feel happy when I’m around you! And I start to realize that when I’m with you, he isn’t with me, and as much as that fucks with my head, I accept it. You push me to start living again, and so I do, and then you take me up a lighthouse, and I kiss you and it’s just…” Her eyes closed as she shook her head, and when she opened them again, she was even angrier. “It’s the most incredible kiss I’ve ever had!”
“That’s not a bad thing. It was incredible for me, too. The best I’ve ever felt.” Hope brought my stomach back into place.
“You don’t get it. Will was the last person to kiss me! That was supposed to be the best, and then there you are, blowing my mind, and you have the nerve to make me want you!” Her outstretched hands moved with every word.
“Morgan, I want you, too. I’ve wanted you since I saw you on that beach, and I knew we’d end up here the moment you mocked my barbecue skills and ate that burger anyway. I. Want. You.”
“Damn you!” she screamed, her eyes filling with tears that caught in the moonlight. “Damn you for making me want you! For making me think I have a shot at being happy again and then snatching it away because you do the same fucking thing he did!” She pointed at the truck parked fifteen feet away, just outside the boathouse. “You do the same thing that got him killed, and I swore I would never put myself in that position again! Never! Not for you. Not for anyone!” The first tear spilled over and raced down her cheek.
“Don’t cry. God, Kitty, don’t cry.” I moved toward her, but she walked straight past me, headed for the truck.
“Don’t touch me! Stay away from me! How could you do it?” she shouted, not even bothering to look back. “How could you make me want you, make me think we have a chance, and then break me into a million pieces? It’s not fair, and I hate you for it!”
My heart lurched, but there was nothing I could say or do to alleviate her pain. There was an overwhelming chance that the possibility of what we could be might not be enough to outweigh what loving him had cost her.
She grabbed the door handle to the truck and flung it open only a few inches before slamming it shut again.
Holy shit, she did it. She opened the door.
“Why? Why me? Why that fucking helicopter? Why?” she screamed, punctuating each question with another slam of the door.
Watching her breakthrough felt a lot like watching her fall apart, and it was so fucking painful that my hand grabbed at my chest.
Headlights caught my attention as a car drove down Morgan’s driveway, but she didn’t stop yelling at me as she abused the door. The car drove past Morgan and parked next to the Mini. It was Sam.
She got out and shut the door, then stared, drop-jawed, at Morgan before looking at me. Her gaze darted between us, her head swiveling back and forth like we were a tennis match before she approached me.
“You made me want you!” Morgan screamed, slamming the door again.
“What the hell did you do?” Sam asked, arching an eyebrow in clear warning as she folded her arms across her chest.
“I told her I’m a search and rescue pilot for the coast guard. I fly helicopters,” I told her without taking my eyes from Morgan’s rage.
“You have got to be shitting me,” Sam seethed.
“I wish I was.” At that moment, I wanted to be anything else. “I don’t know what to do. Should I go over there?”
She snorted. “Unless you’d like Morgan to put your head in that doorframe between slams, I’d stay right where you are. Fucking flyboys.” She muttered that last part.
“God damn it!” Morgan shouted, throwing her weight into the slams of the heavy door. “Stupid. Fucking. Helicopters!”