Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
It didn’t matter. We weren’t engaged. This was all an act, and I was getting distracted. I leaned back, resting my ankle on my knee, and continued where we’d left off. “I’ve been the CFO for the Inn at Sawyers Bend for the last year. I work with Royal and Tenn Sawyer every day, and I can tell you they’re nothing like Prentice. And if he were still alive, I know my father would love Sterling as much as I do.”
“You and your mother went back to her maiden name after she left town?” Mr. Webber probed.
I nodded. Clearing my throat, I said, “She wanted a fresh start. I thought about changing it back after I turned eighteen, but—” I searched for the words that might explain why I hadn’t been able to bring myself to do it. “My mother has been through a lot. She’s happy now. Finally remarried to a nice guy. I don’t want to bring back painful memories.”
Mr. Webber seemed to understand, giving a slow nod as he sat back, ruminating. Sterling reached out to take my hand in hers. It was part of the act, though I wanted to think it wasn’t. I wanted to think she hadn’t even realized she’d reached out to me.
Mr. Webber didn’t miss the gesture. Maybe it was that, or maybe he’d come to his own conclusion. “Alan said you’d come for the box, and when you did, I should ask you for the key.”
His language threw me. Not Do you have your key? But I should ask you for the key.
I didn’t understand.
Sterling did.
Her fingers closed tight around mine in a quick squeeze. Leaning forward, she said, “The key is Buck.”
The sound of my childhood nickname sliced through me. My father, far more traditional than my slightly hippie mother, had hated the name Forrest. Sometimes, I thought they must have been a bad match from the start, though I remembered lots of laughter along with the arguments. My father had refused to call me Forrest and instead called me Buck, a shortened version of his last name my grandfather had also used.
Mr. Webber gave Sterling a wide smile. “Well done,” he said with a nod. “Excuse me, I’ll be back.” He rose from his chair and pushed open a door hidden in the paneling beside his desk.
“How did you—” I started to ask, and then I remembered the deciphered code she’d shown me the night before. KCUB. Buck spelled backward.
Sterling shrugged a shoulder. “I wouldn’t have gotten it so easily, except I had to reverse the key to break the code. It made sense that he might have reversed something in the answer itself.”
“How did you know about Buck?”
Her eyes went ice-cold, the vibrant blue shade suddenly glacial. “You told us last year when we found out who you really are.”
I wished I hadn’t asked. I hated thinking about that day. Seeing the pain on her face as I’d explained my lies had been agonizing. Until then, I’d held out hope that I could talk my way out of it. That day at Heartstone, I’d realized I hadn’t just made a mistake. I’d royally fucked up the best thing that had ever happened to me.
“Clever,” I said, glad to see the cold melt from her gaze at the praise.
“I wasn’t sure,” she admitted in a low voice, “But I thought it was worth a try.”
“I’d say,” I agreed.
The panel door swung open, and Sterling straightened, electricity running through her body, her eyes glued to the rectangular metal box Mr. Webber held in his hands.
My heart sank.
This was it. She’d cracked the code, and now we had the box. Our time together was going to end.
The box was too small to hold much cash, but my father wouldn’t have kept the money in cash anyway. Would it be an account number with passwords? Stock certificates? I was finally going to recover my father’s mythical lost fortune, and I was going to lose Sterling all over again. She’d get her twenty-five percent, and she’d walk.
At that moment, I knew I’d been telling the truth when I said I didn’t care about the money. Sitting there, watching Sterling track the progress of that metal box across the room, knowing she hoped it was the answer to her empty bank account… All I felt was loss.
I’d had her back, talking to me, smiling at me, touching me, for less than twenty-four hours. I couldn’t let her go. Not a second time.
I didn’t want the money. If I thought it would keep her with me, I’d give her every penny.
But I couldn’t buy love. Especially not Sterling’s.
With every step Mr. Webber took, the box drew closer. Sterling’s anticipation rose right along with my dread. I wasn’t ready to let her walk away, and I couldn’t stop her. I needed more time. Time for her to remember what we’d had, to see that everything we were together was still there. If she could just forgive me…