Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 26164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“Hey, I best go,” Lucie told her. “The forecast said a snowstorm is coming and I have to get this stuff down to Steph.”
“All right, be careful. Don’t get side-tracked. Straight into town, then back.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She gave her a mock-salute and Charlotte stuck out her tongue at her.
This time, her smile was genuine.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She was an idiot.
She was the world’s biggest idiot.
Lucie gripped Queenie’s steering wheel as she made her way through the snowstorm. Why hadn’t she stayed in town? Why had she left it so late to come back? She should have taken Jess’s offer of a bed.
But like an idiot, she’d refused. Because she didn’t have a way of letting Atticus know she wasn’t coming home.
Like he’d even notice.
If only she’d left town after dropping off the jewelry to Steph.
If only she hadn’t seen Jess in the grocery store and offered to look after her kids so she could shop in peace.
If only she hadn’t stayed for a cup of coffee and a chat.
If only . . . if only . . .
Well, none of that was going to get her home safe. Only she and Queenie could do that. She was nearly there. She could make it. Even though she was wearing several layers of clothes, her teeth chattered from the chill coming up through the large hole in the footwell. She could barely see where she was going due to the snow coming down. But she knew she was probably only a mile away.
Just as she turned a corner, something came racing out of the trees, making her scream. She turned Queenie’s steering wheel sharply to the left, not putting on the brakes, knowing that was the wrong thing to do. The heavy truck turned and slid, smashing straight into a tree. She jolted forward, the seat belt cutting into her chest, stealing her breath. Her body knocked against the door, her head smashing into the glass.
She sat there for a moment, feeling dazed and confused. She attempted to put Queenie into reverse, but the tires couldn’t find traction.
Shit.
Shaking, she turned Queenie off, figuring she wasn’t going anywhere for a while. It wasn’t like the heater worked, anyway. Then she attempted to undo her seatbelt. It took her a few tries before she managed to undo it.
Her head thumped, and it felt like her entire body had been rolled around in a tumble-dryer.
Not pleasant.
She reached up with her hand to touch her forehead. She pulled it back, looking at the blood on the fingertips of her gloves.
Crap.
She couldn’t stay here. She’d freeze to death. Not that things would be much better outside the truck, but maybe she could make it home on foot.
Wasn’t like she had much choice.
Where the fuck was she?
Atticus paced back and forth in the small kitchen of his cabin.
How fucking irresponsible was it of her to be out in this storm? What about Princess Pickles? Did she care nothing about her cat?
He’d seen her leave earlier that day in that rust-bucket truck of hers and he’d had to suppress the urge to drive after her. She had no right going anywhere in that truck, let alone driving it in a fucking snowstorm.
When he got hold of her . . . he let out a deep breath.
Not your girl. Not your business.
Striding into the living room, he glanced over at the photo of himself and Gemma on their wedding day. It was sitting in the new frame that Lucie had left on his porch. The wooden frame was decorated with felt daisies. Each flower had a jewel in the center. Daisies were Gemma’s favorite. She was holding a bunch in their wedding photo.
He’d done nothing but think about her over this past week, in between moping, drinking his way through a couple of bottles of whiskey, and having dreams about Gemma.
Dreams where she told him to grasp hold of happiness and never let it go. To live his life for the two of them.
Was it just wishful thinking on his behalf? Or was it Gemma trying to tell him something?
With a sigh, he pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes. It was impossible that he loved this girl. Hell, he hadn’t even kissed her.
Yet, he felt something towards her. He was protective of her. He worried over her. He wanted to take care of her.
He wanted to be a Daddy to her Little.
To put her over his knee and spank the hell out of her for putting herself at risk. For risking what belonged to him.
Fuck it.
He knew that Gemma wouldn’t want him to be miserable and alone. And she definitely wouldn’t want him to hurt someone he cared about, to push her away, to let something happen to her.
Grabbing up his keys and a blanket, he put on a jacket, boots, gloves, and a hat. Then he headed out to his truck. He’d just go halfway down the road towards town. Maybe she’d stayed in town. If he had her phone number, then he could have tried calling her.