Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Can you tell me about her?”
“No.”
I expect her to balk, but she doesn’t. She simply nods.
“I understand.”
And in that moment, I know.
I know I’ve found the woman who gets me.
We’ve suffered through completely different scenarios, but she gets me. She understands me in a way I don’t even understand myself.
One day I’ll tell her about Amira.
One day I’ll tell her about everything.
20
ASPEN
Amira is a beautiful name. And of course she was beautiful. Anyone who caught Buck’s eye would be beautiful. She probably had dark hair, skin, and eyes, although perhaps not. I want to ask, but I don’t.
He’s not ready to talk about her.
And boy, do I understand.
Is Amira why he left the Navy? Or was it losing four teammates?
Or both? Or a combination of both and a lot of other things?
Whatever it ultimately was, it took its toll on this man—this strong and beautiful man.
“Buck?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t see my parents today. Maybe tomorrow.”
“That’s fine. Whatever you want.”
“Can I tell you what I really want?”
“Of course.”
“Would you lie here with me, let me lie in your arms?”
“Whatever you want.” He pulls me into an embrace and then gently pushes me so we’re both lying down. I snuggle into him, breathe in his spicy scent.
He groans, and I feel it more than hear it, as it flows throughout my body, making me feel…comforted.
Nurtured.
And… Dare I think it?
Loved.
We lie there, and I drift in and out of sleep. A few times Buck lets out a soft snore.
We don’t move until it’s nearly six o’clock, when Buck finally gets up, goes to the bathroom, and then returns.
“You hungry, baby?”
Baby. Warmth flows through me. I don’t know what we are to each other, but I like that he calls me baby. It’s part of what makes me feel safe and secure with him. Loved with him.
He doesn’t love me. I’m not naïve. You don’t fall in love in three days. But I feel something with him—something I never felt with Brandon.
Then again, with Brandon, I was a totally different person.
“Aspen?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d like to take you out to dinner.”
“You did that last night.”
“I know. I’d like to do it again. I’d like to spend some time with you. We don’t need to talk. We can just eat.”
“I don’t have a lot of clothes, and you only have what’s on your back.”
“True.” He clears his throat. “All right. Dinner in, then. The best room service has to offer. Do you like wine?”
“I do. Red more than white.”
“Red it is. Maybe a nice burgundy.” He pulls the room service menu off the desk. “You don’t eat seafood… They have roast chicken, New York strip, and vegetarian pasta, also chicken piccata and veal scallopini.”
“Roast chicken sounds good,” I say. “Sounds…comforting.”
“Perfect. Burgundy will go great with chicken. It’s a lighter red.”
“I do know. It’s made out of Pinot Noir grapes.”
“Hey, you know a little bit about wine.”
“Only a little. It’s not like we drank any fine wine on the island. My mom and dad like wine. Especially French wine.”
“I’d like to meet them,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows. Did I hear him right?
“I mean…when it’s appropriate,” he continues. “I get that you’re not ready to see them yet. And of course, you’re not ready for me to meet them. In fact, I don’t ever need to meet them, Aspen. It’s not like—”
“It’s okay, Buck. I know you were just being polite.”
“Right,” he says. “Polite.”
Buck calls room service. He orders the roast chicken for himself, as well, and a bottle of burgundy from a château I don’t recognize. The chicken comes with mashed potatoes and green beans, and Buck orders cheesecake for dessert.
I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, but cheesecake sounds good.
In fact, most food sounds good since I’ve been with Buck.
Perhaps I need someone as broken as I am to understand me.
But is he still holding a torch for Amira? The way Brandon seems to be holding a torch for me?
“Aspen?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to make you talk about this if you don’t want to, but do you have any idea how you got taken in the first place?”
“No. My memories are kind of fuzzy, but I believe I was taken from a hotel room when we were in New York. For a game.”
“Which hotel?”
“I… I mean I’m sure I could find out. Records like that are kept.”
“I just wonder how all these women got taken. From what I can gather, most of them were in New York when it happened.”
“That makes sense. The Wolfes are in New York., and it was their father that orchestrated all of this.”
“Yes.”
“Why do you need to know?”
“I guess I don’t. But I want to know.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever did this to you—whoever is responsible for putting you on that island—I want to make them pay.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“No. I do need to do it. For Amira. I couldn’t make that bastard pay. He was a suicide bomber, so he was already dead. And damn… I couldn’t make the fucker pay.” Buck curls his hands into fists, and his jaw goes rigid.