Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“How do you stay so positive? Just a few hours ago, someone threatened to kill you. And instead of crying on the sofa or freaking the fuck out, you’re …” He shrugs. “You.”
He holds my gaze as I stare at him, internalizing his statement. The warmth of his words, the care in his tone—something I’ve only heard in this way a few times over the years—caresses my heart.
This is the side of Troy that I wish I knew better.
There’s a weak spot, a soft underbelly, and he fights against it. He goes out of his way to prevent anyone from seeing him as anything but a hard-ass. Why?
“What else can I do?” I ask. “I could sit here and obsess over it and convince myself that my life is over. But what good would that do? And what if it’s not even true? What if it’s just Freddy being a prick? Do I let him win?” I grin. “I’m going to turn a lemon into lemonade and enjoy my time here. Even if it is with you.”
He rolls his eyes, making me laugh.
“To be honest, I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon,” I say. “And the more I mull it over, the more I think it’s Freddy.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I do. This is a little sophisticated for him in a way. But, in a way, it’s not. Who sends an email like that? Someone who’s trying to scare me and upend my life, and the obvious answer is Freddy. Maybe he thinks it will drive me back to him. Who knows?”
Troy clears his throat. “That makes sense. But you do realize, and I’m not trying to scare you here, but there is the possibility that it’s not him and someone else has an agenda, right?”
“Maybe.” I walk to the small window and peer out. The view extends across the backyard to the sandy beach and beyond to the ocean. “Do you think I could go to the beach?”
“With me.”
I laugh. “Do you think you’re going everywhere I go?”
“No. I know it.”
“I’ll be getting a bath this evening,” I say, turning on my heel. The toe of my shoe catches on the rug, and I fly forward into Troy’s arms. “Oof.”
My fingers splay against his chest. His right arm loops around my waist, holding me in place. His body is as hard as a rock, and once reality settles in, my knees weaken.
I’ve never been this close to this man, but I’ve imagined it a million times. It’s better than the best daydream.
I lift my gaze to him, and the energy between us immediately shifts.
It’s not just a daydream that ends with a sweet kiss. This is a setup for much, much more.
His eyes flash. His nostrils flare. His heartbeat is as rapid as mine.
I gulp a breath as he flexes his fingers against my waist.
The air between us ripples with tension. I’m pushed toward him and pulled away—trapped in a current of uncertainty that could go one of two ways.
I know the way I want it to go.
He searches my eyes as if looking for permission. I lift my chin.
Troy lowers his face toward mine ever so slowly. I hold my breath, desire pooling between my legs as he licks his lips.
Oh shit.
Troy’s going to do this. He’s really going to do this.
His hot breath dusts my lips, the heat of his mouth melting me from the inside out. I reach up, slipping my hand around the back of his neck, and feel his warm skin. Bolts of heat shoot through my fingertips at the connection. I’ve wanted to touch him so many times. And now I get to …
I quiver, panting as he smirks—knowing he has me—and tugs me even tighter against him.
I smile, popping up on my toes to make contact … when his phone rings.
My lungs release my breath in one long, heavy draw. Troy releases me and backs away. I sag against the wall, frazzled and mind blown. Uncertainty impregnates the air between us.
He brings his phone to his ear, never breaking eye contact. “Castelli.”
His jaw sets as he listens to someone on the other end of the line. Finally, after what feels like forever, he rips his gaze away from mine and walks out of the room.
I almost yelp.
I almost yell, too.
Chapter Ten
Troy
I bring the spoon to my lips and taste the sauce. Not bad for canned garbage ingredients.
The only thing I got from my mother that’s worth a damn, aside from Travis, is her homemade sauce recipe. It came from her mother, my grandmother—a woman I never knew. In my mind, she was a robust, warm lady with a smile and a hug at the ready.
All the things my mother wasn’t.
I take a step back and survey the scene. Steam rises from the stove. The oven light is on, keeping the garlic bread warm. Bits of onion and garlic litter the countertop, and an empty sauce jar sits by the sink. It’s been a while since I cooked a decent meal, and by the looks of it, that’s obvious.