Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Somewhere private where we can talk,” I say, moving right to our table so we can grab her purse.
Brooke, Pepper, and Willow are still sitting there, and they smile when we approach. I’m not sure what they see in my expression, but Pepper asks, “Is everything okay?”
I offer a confident smile, but I’m on edge over Clarke’s ominous words. Even though I barely know her and have no clue what happened to her, I’m already planning the death of the man who hurt her.
Strange.
“Everything’s fine,” I assure Pepper, pulling Clarke into my side. “We’re just going to head out. Go somewhere for a cup of coffee.”
All three women regard us with blank expressions, probably wondering if I’ve gone off the deep end since it’s unlikely Aaron Wylde ever had a cup of coffee with a woman unless it was before kicking her out of his bed in the morning.
“See you around,” Clarke says to the women.
“I’ll come by your store next week,” Pepper promises. “We’ll talk about setting up a signing.”
“I’d love that,” Clarke replies with gratitude.
“Give Dax and Regan our regards, regrets, whatever you call it,” I mutter, grabbing Clarke’s tiny purse and handing it to her. Then her hand is in mine, and we’re making our way out of the country club to find a private place to talk.
CHAPTER 8
Clarke
The greater part of me doesn’t want to tell Aaron about what happened. It’s so humiliating and painful I’m sick to my stomach right now even thinking about it.
But something happened this week with Aaron’s repeated visits to my store, sometimes to just quietly sit in my presence, that changed something in me. It made me realize Aaron’s not just out to score. I mean… look at the man. He could crook his finger… and a hundred gorgeous women would come running. I made the mistake of googling him one night, hoping to learn a bit about the sport he played, and I ended up learning stuff about him that I wish I hadn’t.
He’s what would be considered the team’s player. While many of the Vengeance players are in committed relationships, Aaron’s the leader of the single guys. I don’t know how many photos I found of him online, all with different women.
What I took from it, though, is I do believe he’s genuinely interested in me. And because of that, I feel I owe him the truth of why nothing will probably ever come of this, because I’m not sure I can ever trust him. I want him to know it’s not him… it’s me.
So I’m going to swallow my pride, dredge up the horrific memories, and lay it out straight.
Wylde keeps a hold of my hand as we leave the country club. He helps me into his massive truck and when he settles into the driver’s seat, he starts the engine and asks, “Where do you want to go so we can talk?”
Smiling, I nod at his dashboard. “Crank that A/C. We can just sit here and talk.”
“Don’t mind finding a bar for a drink or a coffee shop for some java if you want,” he suggests.
“Actually… I don’t want to be in public when we talk about this because it’s not pleasant for me,” I explain.
“And you don’t want to be a snotty mess around other people?” he guesses.
I give him a sharp look. “I don’t cry over this. Not anymore. That still doesn’t make it pleasant, and it’s definitely not a conversation I’d have while sipping coffee or wine.”
Duly chastised, Aaron’s expression turns somber. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light—”
“No,” I blurt out, reaching out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. But, as you can see, this entire thing sort of gets me riled up.”
Aaron studies me before settling back against the driver’s door so he can more fully face me. With a sweep of his hand, he says, “Then just go ahead and get it out. Let’s talk right here in the privacy of my truck, and you can have whatever emotions you want knowing only I will see them and take them to my grave.”
My lips press into a grim smile. “I wish you hadn’t turned out to be so nice,” I mutter. “You make this even more difficult.”
He just smiles, indicating his patience to hear my entire story. I take a deep breath, then dive into my pain.
“You know the show Celebrity Proposal?” I ask. The blankness on his face gives me the answer, so I take a moment to explain it. “It’s a popular network show where a famous single celebrity dates several common women with the goal being to fall in love and hopefully end up proposing to one.”
Aaron’s brow furrows deeply. “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, I am serious,” I reply dryly. “It’s like one of the top-watched shows in TV history. It’s sort of this whole pauper-to-princess type of mentality. That an average woman can hook a prince—or, in modern-day America, a celebrity.”