Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 91862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
And it’s magnificent.
We stand in my parents’ front yard, our mouths fused together, and I’m ready. So ready. Ready to strip for him and make love right here, in front of the house where I grew up. Where I played with toys. Where I got lost in the cornfield.
I break the kiss and push him away. “Stop it.”
“No.”
“Yes, you will. Have your forgotten my parents are inside? Easily watching us through the window? My dad is probably loading his shotgun about now.”
He draws in a breath. “This was a mistake.”
“You bet it was. You crossed a line, Braden.”
He scoffs. “I crossed a line? Have you forgotten how many lines you’ve crossed? Stealing a piece of mail from my house? Barging into my office and demanding information?”
Yeah, neither of those were my finest moments, but, “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. But since you brought me into it, the last time I checked, I never showed up at your father’s home unannounced. That’s a major line.”
He doesn’t reply. I’m not surprised. He can’t argue my point, and he knows it.
“What are you really doing here?” I ask for the umpteenth time. I’m determined to get an answer before he leaves.
He shakes his head. “I don’t honestly know, Skye. All I know is I was on the plane, ready to go to New York, and I told the pilot to change the flight plan.”
“You didn’t know I was coming here?”
“No. I swear I didn’t.”
“Then why? Seriously. And don’t tell me you were worried about me, or you were trying to understand me.”
“That’s actually the truth.”
“No, that’s the truth you told yourself so you could live with yourself for making this decision. I want the real truth.”
“I’m telling the truth. Or at least, the partial truth.”
“What’s the rest of it, then?”
“I don’t know. I just know…” He rakes his fingers through his hair once more. “I’ve never felt this way before. It’s…unnerving.”
“Felt what way?” I hold my breath.
Emotions play across his face as he wrinkles his forehead, purses his lips. He’s angry, regretful, imposing. Maybe even slightly amused.
Then he looks away from me. “When did you talk to my brother?”
“Interesting pivot,” I say. “It’s not even slightly related to my question. But I’ll play along. He called me an hour ago, while I was in the cab coming here.”
“I see.”
“He says you’re miserable without me.”
“This is why relationships aren’t in the cards for me. I have a problem with misery of any kind.”
I can’t help a laugh. “You think that makes you unique? No one likes to be miserable.”
“I like it less than most.”
“You do? Because you, the great Braden Black, know how misery affects everyone else on the planet?”
“Damn it!” He’s tense again, so tense his body is trembling slightly from the rigidness.
“This is getting nowhere,” I say. “I’m going back in.”
Braden offers me a half smile. “Your mother invited me to stay for dinner.”
He meets my gaze. It’s almost a glare. He’s challenging me—challenging me to make the decision for him. He wants my response. But I refuse to play.
“It’s a free country. Stay.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
I let out a huff and chuckle. “Since when do you care what I want? Suit yourself.” I walk toward the door.
Though he poses an interesting question. Do I want him to stay? I’ve met his father and brother. If we were still together, I would have eventually brought him home to meet my parents. Maybe not quite this soon, but it would have happened.
I grin to myself when his footfalls follow me. I pull open the screen door and then the main door. My parents are no longer in the small living room. I find my mother in the kitchen. My father is probably down in the basement in front of the television. It’s his man cave.
“Hi, honey. Are you okay?” Mom asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Will your friend be staying for dinner?”
“My friend? Mom, this isn’t some guy I brought home from school. This is a billionaire.”
She smiles. “I know that, dear. Everyone knows who Braden Black is. What we didn’t know is that you and he were…”
“Together? We’re not.”
“But you were.”
“Only for a few weeks.”
Braden walks in behind me and clears his throat. “Is the invitation to dinner still open, Mrs. Manning?”
“Of course it is. And please call me Maggie.”
He nods.
“Why don’t you join Steve in the basement? He’ll be happy to pour you a drink.”
“I’d enjoy that. Does he have Wild Turkey?”
Mom laughs. “It’s only his favorite.”
Braden nods and walks toward the stairs to the basement. “Can I get either of you anything?”
“Sure,” I say. “I’ll have a Wild Turkey, too. Bring Mom a vodka and seltzer.”
He nods again and walks down the stairs.
Mom turns to me. “I see we have a lot to talk about.”
Chapter Eleven
Mom’s right. I do want to talk to her, but not about Braden. I came home for a reason—to start at the beginning and figure myself out. Not just so I can answer Braden’s question about what I want, but also to know myself better. To understand why I am who I am.