Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 146034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 487(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 487(@300wpm)
And he thought I was dangerous.
“Oh, no, no. You’ve already done enough for me. I can find my own place to stay.”
I rushed in behind him when he didn’t slow. Then I was slamming to a stop, my jaw unhinging at the sight.
If I’d been awed by the outside, I was dumbstruck by the interior.
It’d been completely redone. Both sleek and homey, the furnishings velvet and plush. Comfortable and stylish.
There was a living area straight ahead with a wall of French doors and windows that overlooked the big backyard that separated the main house from the guest.
There was a complete kitchen with white-cracked granite and matching sea-blue cabinets, and there was a door to my right that I could see led into a bedroom.
But what held my attention was the playset and the children’s toys out in the backyard.
A frown pulled to my brow, and I pointed out the wall of windows toward the larger home across the rambling lawn. “Do you…live there…with your family?”
Obviously, Savannah.
But I couldn’t help asking it. Couldn’t help but question everything because I was not getting Officer Patterson at all.
“Yup.” He went into the kitchen and flipped on the light, seeming to ignore the reservations spiraling through me. “This isn’t the biggest place in the world, but I think it’s a bit better than sleeping in your car.”
My jaw dropped. “A bit better? This place is ridiculous.” Beautiful and perfect and absolutely the last place I could rent. My head shook as I tried to gather my senses. To understand why he would offer this. To discern his intentions.
Was he some weirdo psychopath?
A control freak?
Did he want some kind of tryst?
Or was he truly just kind?
I swallowed the disorder of questions down, realizing his reasoning didn’t matter. The only thing I was certain of? I needed to end whatever this was between us.
“Thanks for the offer, Officer Patterson, but I can’t afford this.”
It was an easy excuse.
One he was sure to buy.
Because with the reaction he evoked in me, the last thing I needed was to have to watch him through the back windows with his family.
No thank you.
“You don’t need to worry about the money.”
Air huffed from my nose. Was he kidding me? “Don’t need to worry about it? I am not here for you to take care of me. I already told you I’m not your responsibility, and I can take care of myself.”
Intensity deepened every line in his powerful brow, and he took a step toward me. I wished he wouldn’t. Because the ground shook beneath my feet, rolling up my legs like thunder. His presence dominating and profound.
“I thought we already established that I don’t think that?” he growled, the burly bear coming out to play.
“Then why do you keep doing all this for me?” It was a huff and a plea, and I hadn’t realized I’d kept stumbling away until my back knocked into the wall.
He was right there, his aura smacking me in the face again, making me dizzy.
Citrus and pine.
Severity filled his voice. “Because I consider myself a good judge of character. Because I can see there’s something going on in your life. Because there’s something about you that makes me want to be there for you.”
“Don’t you think your wife might have something to say about that?” It shot out with a whole ton of force.
A pure accusation.
Because I felt this, and I knew he did, too, and it really pissed me off that he was stepping into it.
Here he was, already showing his true colors.
I shouldn’t have been foolish enough to think for a second that him helping me came from good intentions.
He reeled back like he’d been punched in the gut, stumbling away and fisting his hand with the ring on it like he’d forgotten it was there. His teeth ground so hard that I could hear the grating. There was no missing the pain that scraped through the dense air. “Since she’s dead, my wife won’t get to say anything ever again.”
Torment ground through his words, and it was me who got punched in the gut that time. Regret slammed me so hard I nearly buckled in two when I realized how callous my incrimination had been.
I didn’t have the chance to tell him I was sorry, that I was wrong for making assumptions before he stormed out the door, leaving a wake of anger in his path.
Anger I was certain wasn’t directed at me but at himself.
He left the door gaping open, twilight seeping into the guest house and uncertainty rustling with the wind.
I didn’t know how much time passed as I stood there shifting on my feet in the middle of this adorable little home. I was never surer than then that it couldn’t be mine.
“Crap,” I finally muttered under my breath before I slipped out the door and shut it behind me, Ezra Patterson long gone but his intensity still lingering in the air.