Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Well, darling, it’s all over the media. And, naturally, I must say. What with your status and the popularity of that hockey star of yours.”
He’s not my anything.
“He’s—”
“Honey, I’m not upset,” Mama cut me off.
“Well, I damn sure am!” my father’s voice shouted in the background.
“Oh, hush now,” Mama scolded him before returning focus to me. “Darling, I am so thrilled, honestly.”
I sank onto the edge of the bed, still unmade from our abrupt awakening this morning.
“What?” It seemed to be the only word capable of leaving my mouth this morning.
“You know I probably don’t have much time left on this earth,” she said, her voice softening. My chest constricted, tears biting the backs of my eyes. “And, well, it’s always been a dream of mine to see you walk down the aisle. To see you truly happy.”
The truth of the situation clogged my throat, choking my airways. The joy in her tone, the compassion in her words stilled my tongue.
“Happy?” my father surged in the background. “She’ll be happy when I approve of the son of a bitch! The nerve! What kind of coward doesn’t—”
“Harold!” Mama used the tone only proper southern women could conjure—the one that could silence and scare the living daylights out of any person on the planet, including ones as hardheaded and strict as my father. “Come by the house when you return, please? We have so much to talk about. And bring that man of yours!”
The line went dead with more grumblings from my father, and it took me a few seconds to realize I didn’t need to hold the cell to my ear anymore.
Cannon stomped into the room, his massive presence like a vacuum for all the air in the room, not to mention my lungs. My heart raced as I watched him, tracked his movements as he pocketed his cell and hurriedly shoved shirts and slacks and a hardback into his bag. “Spoke to my lawyer,” he grumbled, not even bothering to meet my eyes. “We’ll annul this thing on Monday.”
A sharp, hot something stabbed the center of my chest.
Not that I wanted to be married to Cannon Price, but the cold tone, his harsh words—God, was I so awful a mistake to wake up married to?
No, not going down that road.
Of course, we had to annul.
I knew Cannon only in the basest levels of acquaintances, and ninety percent of our exchanges were arguments. Sizzling debates that sparked life into my blood where I hadn’t realized I’d been lacking, but still.
I gripped the phone in my hand a little harder than necessary. Tears were inevitable, but I sure as hell wouldn’t cry in front of him.
He slid to a stop before me, finally noticing my lack of movement or response.
“Hey,” he said, the word sharp.
I refused to look up at him. I’d have to arch my neck from my seated position, and I honestly thought if I had to look into those dark eyes and see the utter rejection…well, I might very well crumble into a thousand pieces.
He dropped to his knees, forcing me to catch his gaze. “Are you in shock?”
The serious set of his features made a laugh rip from my chest, so fast and hard that he jolted a little before me.
“What ever would I be in shock for, Cannon?”
He cocked an eyebrow as if to say don’t test me, woman.
I blew out a breath, then straightened my spine.
He nodded, as if something had settled between us.
“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice dropping to that normal, irresistible tenor that made my blood heat. “Now.” He rose to standing, his gaze lingering on me for a few seconds where I remained seated. “Don’t worry. I won’t mar your reputation for long.” He grabbed our bags and hurried from the room like I might slap him or curse him or cry on his shoulder. I had yet to figure out which of those actions would unnerve him most.
What an absolute mess.
One I’d gotten myself into, sure, but for what? Because I couldn’t resist the tall, dark, and terrifying man? Because when I saw the other women bidding on him for the charity auction, something had snapped inside me? The thought of him with anyone else became a sharp, near unbearable pain I couldn’t possibly explain or soothe.
A passing flutter of unwarranted jealousy, of course.
A sting of loneliness and desire.
A mistake, certainly.
One made on instinct as opposed to composed thinking. And perhaps that was the crux of it. Because when it came to Cannon Price, I rarely thought rationally.
Mama swung open the door to the home I grew up in—and technically still lived in, if you counted the guest house on the back five acres. She stepped onto the front porch, her modest pumps clicking against the stonework as she craned her head back and forth. She even went as far to walk behind me, as if I were hiding Cannon in some invisible pocket, and he might materialize at her search.