Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
The elevator door opened, and she started to step in. Gideon’s palm wrapped around the nape of her neck, halting her. “It’s hard to let you go.”
Rory didn’t turn around. She hadn’t once looked up at him. She still didn’t. She couldn’t. She wasn’t that strong. Her world had already begun to unravel. She wanted to cling to him, but he wasn’t real. She wanted him to be, but he wasn’t. She had to accept that what she wanted in a man, in a partner, wasn’t the man she’d thought Gideon was. That wasn’t his fault; it just was what it was.
“I understand, Gideon. I really do. It’s difficult for me too. You need to go home. I have to get inside and try to sleep. I’m working again tonight and we’re down a bartender.”
“All right, Red.” He leaned down and swept her hair from her neck.
Rory felt the brush of his lips against her skin, and it felt like a lash of flames. Then he was gone, and she was ice-cold all over again. She refused to turn around and look out of the glass door to watch him go. She felt his gaze on her and she couldn’t face him. Gripping the brass guardrail with both hands, she took the ride to the main floor, where she knew the women waited in the lounge for her.
Exhaustion settled over her as she stepped off into the wide foyer. Her phone began to ding frantically, as if someone had repeatedly messaged her. She saw that her boss, Brad Fitzpatrick, had called, leaving her four voice mails, and he’d texted her numerous times. He clearly was panicky, trying to get ahold of her. Afraid someone had told him about her car and he was worried, she called him back.
Her boss hadn’t heard about her problems. He had enough of his own, and now he dumped them on Rory, as if she could fix everything. She turned around to start down the hall and ran straight into Javier. He scared her because her warning system hadn’t gone off, and he was so silent she hadn’t heard him. Now her heart was pounding, and she wanted to resort to violence. He looked calm and in control, the way he always did.
“Go away. I’m not talking to you.”
One of his eyebrows shot up. He didn’t stand aside. “Why are you angry with me?”
Rory went around him, or tried to. He just paced along beside her as she stalked down the hall toward the smaller lounge. “Because you won’t leave Gideon alone. You’re driving him crazy, Javier. You can’t do that to him. He knows his limitations. If you keep pushing him and reminding him he’s hurt, he’s going to explode. You need to stop. He’s not a child.” She yanked at the door to the lounge, but he slammed his palm against it, effectively keeping it from opening.
“You’re telling me you’re angry with me because I’m upsetting Gideon?”
“Yes. Now go away. I already have a major headache from a million other things, and you’re just adding to it.”
“I have an idea why someone might have trashed your car. You might want to hear it.”
Rory wished she did want to know. She pressed her hands to her throbbing temples. “Right now, Javier, I want to put my feet up, drink a cup of coffee and pretend none of this is happening. I don’t want to think about my car. Or Gideon. Or you. Or Harvey. Or Jarrod. Or dead men. Not the bar. Or bartenders leaving in droves. I just want coffee.”
Javier studied her face for a long moment, and then he removed his hand, dropped it to the knob and pulled open the door. “I’ll talk to you later.” He sounded firm.
“Yeah, you do that. I’ll be the one at the bar. Day and night. It’ll be my new home.”
“Maybe try getting some sleep.”
“Not sure when that’s supposed to happen.”
“And use your nebulizer. You’re wheezing.”
As if she didn’t know. She entered the lounge, and Javier pulled the door closed behind her. The women were waiting. Rory gave them a little wave and flung herself into her favorite chair. Lydia had set up her machine and had her medicine right beside it. Most importantly, her favorite to-go mug was sitting on the end table beside her machine.
“Hot coffee. Who do I ask to marry me?” She took a cautious sip and found it hot and reviving. “I’m in love. But maybe with the coffee.”
The women laughed.
“My life has gone to hell,” Rory announced. “It isn’t a laughing matter. The only good thing aside from all of you is this delicious and lifesaving coffee. Every sign pointed to me leaving San Francisco as soon as possible. I make up my mind to go, I turn in my two-weeks’ notice, and my boss is practically in tears begging me to stay. That makes me feel guilty, but I hold on to my resolve and decide to stick to my guns and refuse to retract it, even though we are down a bartender.”