Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“I should go,” she said to no one in particular, and turned away.
“Willow,” I called sharply.
She stopped, and turned around to face me. “Hello,” she greeted, stiffly.
The air in the room seemed to freeze over, as for a few seconds afterwards neither of us said a word. Even Anne.
“May I see you for a few minutes?” I asked.
“Uh … actually, I’m in a rush to make another delivery so maybe …”
“It’ll just be a few minutes,” I insisted. I had been behind bars for so long I had not learned there were rules in the dating game. You called a girl back when you were interested. I should have called her. How would she know that in my head she was already mine and everything I was doing was to remove any obstacles standing between us and hasten our coming together? I had fucked up.
“Um …” Willow looked uncertainly between the speculative expression on Anne’s face and mine.
“Anne, please let Garrett know I’ll be a few minutes late. This way, Willow,” I said decisively and turning around started to return to my office, listening intently for the sound of footsteps following me. I walked through the door and held it open for her. When she passed through, I shut the door, walked over to my desk and deposited the resumés I was still holding in my hand. Then I leaned a hip against the desk and faced her.
Her beautiful face was expressionless, but I knew she was hurt. I kicked myself for being so insensitive, so stupid. I didn’t beat around the bush. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “For not contacting you. Things have been hectic—”
“There’s no need for that,” she interrupted. “It was just a date, not a marriage proposal or anything. It meant nothing. You’re not obligated to contact me.”
It was only hurt talking. I had disappointed her and I richly deserved the cold treatment. I stared at her steadily until her gaze faltered and she looked away. I threw all caution to the wind and went towards her. Startled at my sudden approach, she retreated until her back hit the door.
“What are you doing?” she called out hoarsely.
I halted, just two steps away from her and forced myself to take a deep breath. “I’m really sorry, Willow.” I apologized, hoping that she could see how much I meant it. “I’ve been swamped with work. All my focus has been on opening up this office.”
My explanation was a partial truth, but it would have to do … for the moment. Ever since I became aware of being under surveillance, I knew it was better to stay away from her until I got these men off my back. And the only way to make that happen was for me to deliver a viable financial product to them. I’d been knee deep in the research that would confirm if I could actually create what they were asking of me. Once I had that information, I could negotiate harder. I would have the power to demand they stay the fuck away from Willow and me while I created their financial instrument. To that end I had abandoned all else and worked day and night to handle that.
“Alright,” she murmured. “I understand.”
I took another step towards her and this time she didn't retreat. There was nowhere for her to go anyway with her back pressed defensively against the door.
With a tight smile at me, she turned around and pulled the door open, but I was faster. My hand reached above her head and snapped the door shut again.
She stilled, and so did I. I could see her hand tighten so hard around the handle, her knuckles showed white. Her gaze locked onto mine.
“I have to leave,” she announced, breathlessly.
Without taking my gaze off hers, I slid my left arm around her waist, she laid both her palms against my chest and pushed me away. The strength in her arms was puny, futile, useless. I pressed her body hard against mine and she melted into me. There was no more struggle.
“I … I … really have to leave,” she repeated, her voice thick and hesitant.
I leaned down and buried my face in her neck, deeply inhaling her scent: flowers. Always. Even before she had the flower shop. She always smelled of flowers. Intoxicating, wild flowers she would pick from the fields. I wanted to cry with the memory. Us, lying in a field. It was summer. She was tickling my nose with a flower.
“Caleb,” she breathed. It was a protest. I knew that, but I couldn’t stop myself. The heat that rolled off her body melded with mine and it was as though I was once again, in the past. I was back in a big open farmer’s field. The sun was shining on my face. The baked ground underneath me was hot. There was the sound of a bee buzzing. Willow was laughing. Her golden hair was like the halo of an angel. I was content. I was king of the whole world then.