Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
My shoulders sagged.
Of course.
Of.
Fucking.
Course.
Truett.
I’d lived an entire lifetime without running into him. Twice in a week only seemed fitting.
Frustrated beyond reason, I marched to the door. He had stopped trying to get inside, but unfortunately, it didn’t appear as though he was leaving. Through the glass, his gaze collided into mine with the force of a freight train. His face was ashen, his eyes wide with a panic that shattered the barrier between us. I tried to steady my breathing and reject the tsunami of emotions crashing over me.
My instincts screamed for me to reach out and soothe whatever demon had overtaken him.
Experience, on the other hand, told me that attempting to help Truett West was the definition of insanity. Experience also begged the question of why I would even care to try.
With our eyes locked, I forced my feet to stay planted, my hands remaining firmly at my sides, my finger still poised on the mace. Despite every intention to remain detached, my heart pounded in my chest—no doubt echoing his own.
I hated that he still had that effect on me. More, I hated that I allowed him to have that effect on me. I placated myself with lies about it being human nature to have such a visceral reaction to another human in distress. Empathy was never a bad thing.
Unless it became toxic.
Absorbing the emotional grid of others came with a price.
A price I would never be able to afford when it came to Truett.
I couldn’t do this. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Fuck my instincts, there was only one way to end it—cruel as it might have been.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped through the glass.
His reply was muffled. “Someone locked the door.”
“Uh, yeah. Me.”
His thick brows drew together. “What?”
I wasn’t sure if he actually couldn’t hear me or if he just couldn’t get it through his thick skull, so I unlocked the door and shoved it open with hopes of making this entire interaction as brief as possible. “The Grille is closed.”
The crinkle of his forehead deepened. “Then what are you doing here?”
“Well, I was trying to work until you decided to scare the shit out of me.”
His chin jerked to the side—confusion stacking on top of confusion. “You work at The Grille now?”
I did not know the man standing in front of me anymore, but I was relatively certain he hadn’t lost his ability to read through the years. Stabbing a finger at the sign on the door, I repeated, “No, because The Grille is closed.”
Glowering, he spoke slowly, enunciating every other word. “Then what are you doing here?”
I was almost impressed that he still had attitude left in him. However, it was aimed at me, so I rolled my eyes. “I bought the place. It will be closed for renovations for the next month or two, but keep an eye out for The Rosewood Café’s grand opening. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to well…anything that is not standing here with you.”
I started to close the door, but he caught it with his palm against the glass only inches from my head. The faint smell of his cologne assaulted me. In that moment, my olfactory senses unlocked the power of time travel, transporting me back to a day when that scent had meant safety, comfort…happiness.
Now, though, it felt like a knife to the chest. My stomach rolled as I fought the urge to punch him for being such an imposter. He had no right to still smell like Truett. This guy would never be man enough to fill those shoes.
“Back up,” I demanded.
“A month or two?”
“I said back up!”
He didn’t move. He stood there looming over me, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. “I can’t wait that long.”
“Well, you don’t exactly have a choice. Try that place on Oak Street or something.”
“I can’t go to Oak,” he growled. Yes. Growled. Like he was some kind of bear I’d just run into in the woods.
I couldn’t remember the survival skills on black bears versus grizzly bears off the top of my head, but I had a lot of experience with disrespectful men. “I don’t give a shit where you go as long as it’s out of my face.” Using both hands, I yanked on the door, but he didn’t allow it to budge.
“Wait,” he begged.
“For what?” The fissures in my heart burned as I struggled to keep them closed. “What exactly am I waiting for now, Truett?”
He had the good sense to look sheepish, but I didn’t let it slow my fury.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I’m really impressed that you finally figured out how to speak in full sentences. But you can fuck all the way off if you think I’m going to take even one more second of your bullshit. I did wait. I waited for years.” I changed my tactic, so rather than pulling on the door, I pushed it open wider.