Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“What?” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No comeback to that?”
“What if I fail?”
“You won’t. Tell yourself that you won’t. You’re strong, Kelly. You can do anything you set your mind to. You’ve survived the worst. It’s all smooth sailing from here.”
“You have no idea what I’ve survived.”
“I have a general idea.”
“From who? Aspen?” I shake my head. “She doesn’t have a clue what I’ve survived.”
“Fine. I don’t know. It’s all between you and your therapist. I will never say that I know exactly what you’ve been through. Do I have a general idea? Yes, I do.”
“You may have a general idea of what I went through on that island,” I say. “But that’s all you have. You don’t know what my life has been like. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”
He reaches toward me then, touches my upper arm.
His touch burns through me. Through the fabric of my blouse, through my skin, through my flesh and muscle, straight to my core.
I step away from his caress.
And it’s difficult because what I really want to do is step toward him.
But I don’t get close to people. People only lead to heartache.
“I apologize,” he says.
“Get over yourself. You don’t need to apologize to me.”
“Apparently I do.”
“You don’t. No one apologizes to me.”
He cocks his head, rests his gaze on me. What is he thinking? He seems confused, but I could be wrong. I’ve never been the best at reading people.
“Very well then,” he says. “No more apologies. I’m here for you, Kelly. I’m being paid very well to be here for you. So if you don’t want apologies, you will get no more from me.”
“Fine,” I say. “I need to go shopping.”
“Okay.”
“You’re not going to interrogate me about why?”
“Why would I do that? Why would I question everything about you? If you say you need to go shopping, I’m taking your statement at face value. Let’s go shopping.”
“I have to go to Macy’s. To get some white blouses for work.”
“Good enough. Did I ask for an explanation?”
He laughs then. He fucking laughs. Shakes his blond head and laughs. Then he holds out his hand and ushers me out the door.
And I don’t know whether to be angry or turned on.
Because it dawns on me that I’m both.
Damn.
17
LEIF
I hate shopping. I hate it with a purple passion, but Kelly got a job. This is huge. Keeping busy will help her focus—give her something else to focus on besides whatever is eating at her inside.
This is good.
I just hope she understands she must be nice to her customers. If she ends up treating them the way she treats the rest of us?
Goodbye, job.
“All right. Macy’s it is,” I say. “You want to get some lunch first?”
She looks at her watch. “It’s only eleven.”
“True, but I’m always hungry.”
“I think I’d rather do the shopping first, if you don’t mind.”
I clutch my hand to my heart. “Wait, did I hear you right? Did you just ask me if I mind?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You know what? Screw that. Shopping first. You don’t have to come.”
“Would I miss shopping with you?” This time I roll my eyes. “Never in a million years.” I hail a cab.
“I can’t afford to be taking cabs everywhere,” she says.
“Did I ask you to pay?”
A taxi stops for us, and the cabbie gets out and opens the back door for Kelly. She scrambles in, and I get in beside her.
The cabbie takes the driver’s seat. “Where to, mister?”
Kelly shakes her head with a huff. “What makes you think he’s in charge? Why are you asking him where to go?”
Oh, God…
“Uh…sorry.” The cabbie turns back to face the road. “Where to, miss?”
“That’s so sexist, just assuming I’m a miss.”
I breathe out slowly. This could go on forever if I don’t put a stop to it.
“Macy’s, please,” I say calmly.
“You got it.”
This particular cabbie is good at dodging through traffic. So good that Kelly’s knuckles go white as she clasps her hands in her lap.
Interesting that she does that a lot. Holds her hands together in her lap. If I knew more about body language, I’d probably know what that means. Whatever it signifies, at least she stays quiet.
When we arrive at Macy’s, I hand the cabbie my Wolfe-issued credit card and give him a handsome tip. Then we head into the store.
“I’ll take it from here,” Kelly says.
“You want me to just stand around and wait for you?”
“Either that or stand around and wait for me in the middle of the women’s section. Which do you prefer?”
“I suppose you have a point.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my pants. “Try not to be too long. I’m starving.”
“No one forced you to come along.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
She doesn’t reply. Just harrumphs and heads toward the escalators.