Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Talk to me, man.” Tully crossed his arms and set his feet.
Mitchell raked a hand through his hair. “I want what you have. What Linc has. I see it, I’m fucking jealous of it. I want it.”
“You’re thinking since four days have passed that she’s not coming back to you.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” Off to his left, Faust let out a bleat in response to his yell and rammed his head into the gate. “Exactly, goat. You get it.”
“That goat is a goddamn psycho, don’t agree with anything he does. Other than adore my Legs. He’s right on that one.” Tully stroked a hand down his beard before crossing his arms once more. “You’re going to have to let her come to you at her own pace, Mitchell.”
“Can’t she come to terms with her own pace while she’s here. With me? And not off in some other country with that man who wants more than friendship with her?”
“You’re talking about João and he is a friend. He’s a photographer for National Geographic. They are nothing more than friends.” A shrug of massive shoulders. “You don’t think that we don’t have your back in this? Of course we researched the fuck out of that guy.”
“The longer she’s away from me, the more walls she can build. I can’t fight them if I can’t see her, talk to her, touch her.”
“I thought I fucked up with Dawson, Mitchell.”
“You did,” Dawson announced as she walked out of the barn, hair up in a ponytail. “But you fought for me. For us.” She patted him on the chest, bringing a contented smile to Tully’s face.
Tully wrapped a hand in her ponytail and tugged Dawson’s head back until he was kissing her. Mitchell cleared his throat. “Missing my woman, so not a fan of the in-my-face display of public affection.”
Dawson remained pressed against the large ex-hockey player who loved her more than anything, her hand on his chest, showing off the ring he’d made for her. “The point we’re making here, Mitchell, is that you attacked her on her insecurities and that’s not easy to bounce back from. She was still in mourning from losing her mentor. And you made her feel inadequate and like she wasn’t worthy of you. Not strange really given her own ex. Don’t forget, you’re not the only one with a past.” Hand on Tully’s cheek, she kissed him. Dawson moved to his side and brushed those same lips on his cheek. “But she loves you, and she’ll be back when she can.”
Both men watched the proud, sassy woman strut to her Dark Horse and straddle it. With a wave over her shoulder, she started the powerful engine and rode off. Tully adjusted himself beside him and Mitchell didn’t say a word. What was there to say? Watching her do that shit was hot.
“Look,” Tully said after Dawson was out of sight. “I know Linc is typically the more insightful one, you’re the prankster, and I’m the entitled asshole, but Dawson is right. You know how Legs was with her mother, all the comments about her weight. Strong yes, but it wore at her. The negative is insidious and you have to see this from her side.”
“I don’t give a fuck what size she is, Tully. I want her. Start, finish, and everything in between.”
“And the company and your accusations?”
“Fucking Christ. I made a mistake. I’ll sell the damn thing if that’s what it takes to get her to come home.” A deep breath. “To me.”
“She had the ex who was using her to get ahead, not because he cared or liked her. Similar situations but different at the same time. That can’t have felt good to her. But about your company, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Come on, let’s go get a drink.” A smile. “I’m buying.”
Mitchell pushed away from the barn door. “So we’re going to your place then?”
“Yep.”
He shook his head. “We’re going to my place. I’ll make you clean while we drink.”
“That’s fine. I don’t have any beer there anyway.” Tully grinned and sauntered to his bike. “I’ll meet you there.”
When Mitchell pulled up to his house, he noticed more reporters waiting. Parking in the driveway beside Tully’s Harley, he climbed out of his Grigio Ferrari 812 with the hardtop already retracted and glared at those around his home.
“What are you doing here? I told you, I have nothing to say to you.”
“Mr. Anderson, we have a few questions for you about Inicio.”
“I have no answers for you. I provided all the information I cared to at the press conference.”
“What about the rumors that you are reconciling with your ex-wife?”
He was frozen to the spot and Tully stopped as well.
“What did you say?” he demanded of the man standing at the edge of his property, like that was going to save him.