Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
“Right. Of course,” she says, wincing. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.”
“Stop apologizing.” I sigh before adding in a softer voice, “I’m not looking for apologies. An explanation would be nice, but…”
I trail off, my pulse picking up as I wait for her to respond.
Instead, she clears her throat and points to my cast. “What happened to your leg? Are you okay? Do you need a hand getting to your gate? My flight was cancelled, so I’m happy to help. I don’t have anywhere to be.”
“I can’t really talk about it,” I say, which is partially true. Everything that went down with the Sweetwater mob is classified FBI and CIA business, but I could answer some of those questions if I wanted to.
But I don’t.
I’m more interested in getting answers than giving them out. “Why are you in St. Louis?” I ask, hoping a conversational softball might help dissolve the awkwardness.
This isn’t like Dipsy. Up until the day she ghosted me, she was an open book. I never had to ask what she was feeling or thinking. She either told me or the truth was right there on her face when we jumped on Skype for our Saturday afternoon chats.
Now, her expression is guarded, and her lips give nothing away.
“Top secret elf business for Santa,” she says with a self-conscious shrug. “And a guest spot for a St. Louis news station I’ve been working for lately on top of my Bad Dog stuff. Their fluff piece woman is out on maternity leave.”
What about D.C.? I want to ask. What about hard-hitting journalism and having your own news show some day like Rachel Maddow?
But I know better than to go there.
Instead, I say, “Nice. How did it go?”
“Good.” She flaps her hands at her sides. “Before filming ran late and I ended up sprinting through the airport like a crazy person with a stranger’s suitcase.” Her gaze returns to mine, her blue eyes filling with an emotion I can’t name. “And then you weren’t a stranger. You were you. And I feel terrible, Bear, but you can’t ask me to explain myself. I’m too embarrassed, and my explanation wouldn’t fix anything anyway.” She steps closer, close enough for me to smell the sweet floral notes of her signature perfume. “And that’s why I’m going to grab my suitcase and go. I’m sorry.”
I reach out, circling her wrist with my fingers as she starts past me.
Even that small touch is enough to send electricity sizzling up my arm. Judging from the way her breath catches and her full lips part, I’d bet the proceeds from this year’s Clyde the Belching Kitten dolls that she feels it, too. (Clyde dolls were the hot ticket of the holiday season, so that isn’t a small bet.)
But I’d still make it.
Now that she’s close, that feeling from September is back and stronger than ever.
When I look at this woman, when I touch her, I know this is where I’m meant to be. With her. Always. Maybe it’s crazy, but it’s also a truth I can’t deny and a feeling I don’t want to fight.
“Don’t, Dipsy,” I say, my voice husky and low. “I know we can get through this. Just talk to me.”
“I can’t.” Her eyes begin to shine. “I have to go to the bathroom and change. Or I need to scratch. My elf panties are so itchy, Bear. It’s ridiculous.”
“I noticed,” I say, remembering thinking the woman in the elf costume had a beautiful backside, even before I realized she was my woman.
Mine.
I want that more than anything, and it’s not too late to fix whatever went wrong between us. I just need to take things slow, treat Dipsy like one of the feral strays I used to help socialize back at the animal shelter in high school.
She’ll come around. She has to.
Destiny doesn’t make mistakes, and the fact that we’re both here at the same time with matching suitcases is too much to be a mere coincidence.
“Hit the bathroom. I’ll wait here.” I relax my hold on her wrist, sliding my hand down until my fingers are wrapped around hers. “My flight was cancelled, too. I’ll see if I can make a reservation for two for the Credit Express lounge. We can get a bite to eat, have a glass of wine, and catch up. No stress. We don’t have to talk about the past at all if you don’t want to.”
Because I’m way more interested in your future, I add silently.
Her fingers flex around mine for a beat before she releases them with a tight nod. “Okay. I am hungry. I think I’d be even hungrier if I weren’t so itchy.”
I smile. “Then we have a plan.”
“Right. A plan. A plan is good. Even when it doesn’t work out.” She clears her throat, adding in a softer voice, “That’s what happened with D.C. They laid off the man who hired me two days after I arrived. His replacement then proceeded to fire everyone he’d hired in the past six months. I couldn’t find another job fast enough to pay for my expensive D.C. apartment, so I had to leave. Now, I live in my parents’ basement.”