Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
* * *
Josephine woke up to the sound of her apartment door being kicked in.
She jackknifed on the couch, screaming so loud that it could be heard clear to Orlando.
This was it. Her Dateline moment.
A robbery gone wrong. Or was it? questioned Keith Morrison.
Who would rob her, though? She had nothing of serious value in the apartment. Her clubs were kept in a locker at the golf course. Jewelry? Did they want the locket from JCPenney her mother had given Josephine at her graduation brunch? Because she would stab first and ask questions later, if they went anywhere near that locket—
Hold on.
Wakefulness collided with reality, bringing life back into focus.
She wasn’t being robbed. Not unless this shirtless, six-foot-two golfer with wild eyes had fallen on seriously desperate times.
“Wells?”
He didn’t move. Not right away. He simply continued to stare at her, chest heaving, the door behind him hanging off its hinges.
Finally, he held up his phone and pointed at it. “No dots.”
“What?”
He struggled through a swallow, his voice little more than a scrape. “There was an urgent low and then you just . . . went off the fucking map.” His breath sounded more like a wheeze. “And you wouldn’t answer your phone, Josephine. I thought . . . I thought you . . .”
At once, the situation clicked, the remaining sleep cobwebs dissipating.
The blood drained from her face.
“Oh Wells, I’m sorry.” Slowly, she stood. “I should have explained this to you.”
He dropped his phone with a loud bang, but didn’t seem to notice he’d done so.
“I had to change the sensor. It takes a while to warm up and connect again with the app, so . . . there is no number for a while.” He looked so shaken up, she was almost afraid to approach him. “It might have looked like I was crashing, but I was fine. I’m totally fine.”
Wells doubled over, hands propped on his knees, sides puffing in and out.
“I’m sorry,” she said, a chasm opening in the center of her chest. “I’m sorry that freaked you out. I fell asleep and my phone must have been silenced.”
“Okay.” He took several long, uneven breaths. “Just . . . let me get myself together.”
“Okay.” She shifted on her bare feet. “Would a hug help—”
“Yes,” Wells rasped, barreling toward her like a cruise missile. Josephine was scooped off the floor and enveloped in a bear hug that was so fierce, it made her eyes water. Wells buried his face in her neck and breathed deeply, gathering Josephine closer, closer, like he was trying to absorb her. “You and me not being together all the time is fucking stupid, Josephine,” he roared.
“You’re shouting in my ear.”
No apology was forthcoming. Not from this man.
And honestly, Josephine didn’t really need one. The way he was holding her like he was on the verge of breaking said more than words ever could. That was Wells, wasn’t it?
No sweet nothings. Only actions.
Josephine stared over his shoulder at the brutalized door, piling more and more facts together. “Did you drive all the way here from Miami?”
“I’d have driven to the ends of the Earth, belle.”
Oh wow.
Moisture washed into her eyes.
Hold that thought about sweet nothings—
“That’s probably how long it would have taken you to simply return my call. Christ.”
She started to laugh.
Holy cow, she’d missed him more than she realized. Like a hundred times more.
“Don’t you dare laugh. I’ve been through hell. That was the worst hour of my life.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing when he lifted her more securely against his chest, her feet leaving the floor. “I know. I’m sorry.” Discreetly, she inhaled his neck, letting the combination of soap and sweat seep into her skin. “You’re still paying for my door. Did you even knock?”
“Nope.”
Wells walked them over to the couch and turned, sitting down heavily. And because of the way they’d been standing, she had no choice but to wrap her thighs around his hips, straddling him on the couch, her face smooshed in his neck.
Right. No choice at all.
“Listen, belle,” he started a few seconds later, his palm stroking down the back of her head, still shaking slightly. “I remember what you told me. About your parents making a fuss about diabetes and how it reminds you there’s something to fear. I know you can take care of yourself. This just threw me, okay? I didn’t know what was happening.”
“I understand.”
“I won’t lose my shit next time.” He paused to let out a jagged breath. “But you should still answer your goddamn phone.”
She nuzzled her smiling face farther into his neck.
“Because I don’t wear matching outfits for just anyone, Josephine. I don’t wear them for anyone but . . .” He jerked a shoulder. “You know who.”
“Me.”
A gruff grunt was his response. “Your dad didn’t even answer my call,” he said after a moment, sounding stunned.