Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Cadie, may I please talk to you?”
I sighed and closed my eyes. “I need to be up in a matter of hours, Kian. Tomorrow, okay?”
“I won’t be long. I just need to apologize for my stupidity. Please.”
Chewing on my lip, I thought about my two options. Distance myself from Kian. Or tell him the truth.
Walking over to the door, the second I opened it and saw Kian standing there, his eyes filled with regret and a pleading look on his face, I had my answer.
Motioning for him to come in, I softly said, “Come on in.”
“Five minutes is all I need.”
He walked into the room and turned to face me. I went to speak, but he held up his hand. “Please, let me go first.”
His hand went up and pushed into his hair. My lower stomach tugged with desire as I watched him pace back and forth in front of my bed.
“I’ve never felt this way with any other woman, Cadie. When I’m near you, I feel…alive. Happy. Hopeful. I know that sounds crazy when I’ve only known you for such a short time, but it’s true. I just thought…I hoped you would trust me as at least a friend.”
“I do trust you, Kian.”
“Then why won’t you tell me more about your past?”
I closed my eyes and fought to hold off the tears. When I opened them, I let out what felt like the first breath in months. “Let me say first that I feel the same way about you. This feeling,” I clutched at my chest, “when I’m with you, it leaves me breathless in the most beautiful way. I feel safe, and I haven’t felt safe in a very long time.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”
I walked over and placed my hand on the side of his face. When he leaned into my touch, I felt a tear slip free. “I didn’t want to tell you about my past because I care so much about you, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Why would I be hurt? Are you married?”
Laughing, I shook my head. “No. I’m not married.”
With a deep breath, I took his hand in mine. I could do this. I could trust Kian and needed to trust that I was safe here in Moose Village.
“Let’s sit down.”
Kian followed me, and we sat on the edge of the bed and turned to face one another. I crossed my legs and took his hand again.
“I don’t even know where to start.”
Kain squeezed my hand. “Do you want to wait until tomorrow? I know you said you have to be at the bakery early.”
“No,” I said, wiping a tear away. “I want you to know everything.”
He smiled, and I was once again struck by how beautiful his eyes were and how his smile did wicked things to my libido.
“My name isn’t Cadie Waterford.”
To his credit, Kian attempted to keep a neutral expression, but his eyes gave him away.
“My first name is Cadie, but I used to spell it Katy. My real last name is Reynolds. I was born and raised in Oregon, but moved to Boston several years ago after visiting there numerous times with my parents. I lived there up until December, when I sold my bakery and left.”
“What?” he whispered.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “My parents currently live in Italy and probably have three times your family’s money. My brother lives in Oregon still.”
Giving him a moment to absorb it all, he nodded. “Keep going.”
I glanced down at our intertwined hands. “I owned a very successful bakery in Boston. It was featured in a few magazines, and we were even on Good Morning America once.” I sniffled and wiped a tear away. “About two years ago, I met this guy through mutual friends. He was nice, charming, and persistent about wanting to go out with me. He would come into my bakery every morning and get a coffee and a piece of coffee cake. His name is…”
Kian placed his finger on my chin and lifted so our gazes met. “His name is?”
Drawing in a breath, I slowly exhaled. “His name is Michael Bellucci.”
I waited to see if the name would ring a bell. When it didn’t, I let out a humorless laugh.
“Yeah, his last name meant nothing to me when I first met him.”
He frowned. “Should it mean something?”
“His family has very close ties with the mafia.”
“The mafia?” he asked, his head drawn back in surprise.
“Yes. And I didn’t realize it until we dated for about six months. My best friend, Lauryn Andrews, warned me about Michael’s family. She works for the district attorney in Boston. Nothing had ever been linked to Michael, so at first, I blew off her warning. I couldn’t even imagine Michael hurting a fly. I kept dating him, against the advice of Lauryn, and everything was great. I couldn’t see a future with Michael; he worked endless hours, and we had fun together, but something deep inside warned me not to get too close to him. At least, close as in, I never thought about marriage or kids with him in that picture.”