Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
He exhales slowly and then gives Hope a pointed look of you know why. “You’re free to go, Mr. Taylor. But, uh . . . Hope?”
I swear to fuck that I’m about to kick things off by punching an officer of the law if he says one word to her about going back to Roy. The jailtime would be worth it. And so help him, if he tries to get her out of this vehicle, I’ll end up strapped to the electric chair.
“Yeah?” she asks, her guard up and fortified with steel.
He presses his lips together so tightly they blanch, then darts his eyes left and right like he’s checking to make sure there’s no one else out here on this road but us. “You made the right choice. Keep running. Don’t look back. There are some of us who see who Roy is, and who his dad is too.”
Before the words even travel from my ears to my brain for processing, he’s tapped the roof of the car and is quickly striding back to his SUV. He pulls off a second later, leaving us sitting on the side of the road.
“You heard that, too, right?” Hope murmurs, still in her position over the console. I nod, glancing up in the rearview mirror to make sure the deputy’s really gone. “Holy shit.”
I don’t think either of us expected that.
“I totally thought he was gonna take me to a field somewhere for Roy to jump me and leave me for dead,” I confess. “But he pulled us over to warn us that your ex’s dad has his squad watching for my car, and to let you know that he’s Team Hope?” I summarize, still trying to make sense of it all.
Hope nods robotically. “It would seem so. I’m sorry about all this.”
I hold up a finger. “No apologies. We’re all good—no handcuffs were clinked, no mug shots were taken, and no fists were thrown.”
“See? Unflappable,” Hope declares. She leans the rest of the way over the console and plants a kiss right on my lips. I can feel her smile even as I close my eyes.
I shove my hand into her hair, cupping her jaw to keep her there so I can kiss her more thoroughly. “Amazing,” I murmur against her mouth.
Because, fuck, she is.
Chapter 15
HOPE
Deputy West did more for me today than he realized. I’m sure he thought he was being a nice guy, warning me about Roy and Sheriff Laurier. What he actually did was show me that I’m done playing nice, which I’ve been doing for a lot longer than just this week. More like, my whole life.
Good girl. People pleaser. Nice. Kind. Sweet.
Blah! No more of that!
I think that version of Hope Mercy Barlowe is burning to ash in the hot flames inside my soul. I want to live, be loud, and choose things because I want them, not because they’ll make someone else happy. I want to have opinions and speak them. I want to be heard, respected, and celebrated.
I already started doing that the moment I turned away from Roy at the altar, but I’m taking it up a level, starting tonight. I’m gonna owe Deputy West a free toothbrush kit when he comes in for his next cleaning to thank him for throwing a match on this big pile of kindling I’ve been building.
How dare Sheriff Laurier put Ben’s rental car on blast to all the deputies? What did Roy think running to his father after our beach conversation would accomplish? And why do I care what the grapevine is saying about me?
Nope, I’m done playing nice. I promised Ben I’d show him Maple Creek, and by God, I’m gonna do it. Especially since it’s Saturday night. There’s only one place to be: Chuck’s. So that’s where we’re going, and anyone who has a problem with it can answer to me. And probably Ben. But definitely me.
Of course, Chuck’s is the place to be because it’s the only bar in town, but I’m choosing to ignore that. What’s important is that we’re going out tonight!
I ride the high of excitement and an I can do what I want attitude through getting dressed—cutoff denim shorts that are almost daringly short for me, a cute tank top, and wedge sandals—and doing my hair and makeup. I sing along loudly with the radio on the way there, not caring that my voice sucks or that Ben’s grinning as his eyes find me over and over, not paying nearly enough attention to the road. I get out and strut what stuff I have across the parking lot, swishing my hips a bit extra for Ben’s benefit.
No, I take that back—for my benefit, because I look good. I know I do. And I’m going to have fun tonight.
I parade myself right up to the door, feeling fierce . . . until Ben puts his hand on the small of my back and reaches for the door.