Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 105921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
My sense of well-being lasted until the next commercial break.
Beneath the loud jingle for an upcoming kids' show, a familiar tone hit my ears. A text alert. On my phone. I popped upright, dislodging August, and twisted to search the room. Where was my phone?
Tenn, catching my distress, opened his bedside table and pulled out the phone, the text alert still showing on the screen.
I'm good. Call soon.
I didn't recognize the number, but the message was definitely from Thatcher. That last part was a little joke between us. His own shorthand for love you more without the heart because Thatcher said he wasn't a hearts and flowers kind of guy.
I grabbed at the phone, unlocking the screen and dialing the unknown number. It rang once before a mechanical voice alerted me that the mobile user hadn't set up his voice mailbox. I tried again, calling twice more to the same result.
With a grunt of frustration, I tossed the phone on the bed. He's okay. He said he was, and he wouldn't have texted if he weren't okay. I tried to reassure myself, but I wasn't buying it. It was a text, not a phone call. Video chat would have been even better. And I had no guarantee Thatcher had even sent it. I didn't think anyone else knew our in-joke, but this whole situation was proving that I didn't know as much as I thought I did.
I sat there, the sounds of August's show ringing in my ears, and the reality of my situation smacked me in the face. I was lying in bed with a man I barely knew, I was no closer to finding the bust of Vitellius than I had been when I got here, and worse, I'd managed to embroil myself in a murder investigation. I wasn't completely sure why Thatcher had sent me here or how much danger we were in—even before Vanessa's murder—and I'd brought my eight-year-old along for the ride.
There was no other way to look at it. I was a terrible mother, an idiot, and a fool. Here I was, snuggling with Tenn Sawyer, who I barely knew but had slept with too many times, spinning dreams of staying here forever when clearly all of that was impossible. I wanted to pack August up and flee for home. Except I couldn't because there was Thatcher.
"Who was the text from, Scarlett?"
Tenn's quiet question interrupted my spiraling thoughts. Deliberately, he picked up the phone and put it back in his bedside drawer. I couldn't let him do that. Thatcher had said he'd call me later. I needed that phone.
"Give me my phone, Tenn." I tried to hide the worry in my voice. To sound strong. Tenn only stared at me in the same way Bryce did. As if I were a puzzle to be solved.
Finally, he said, "I don't think so. Not until you tell me who that text was from."
Why did he need to know? He couldn't demand I trust him. That wasn't how trust worked.
"Give me back my phone, Tenn." I met his eyes with a steady gaze. "You don't have the right to keep it from me. It's mine."
"This is my house. I have the right to do anything I want."
His words sent a chill through me. Just yesterday, the handcuffs he'd taken from the police chief had been a sensual promise well-fulfilled. Now, they were a threat. He had my phone. We were trapped here. And I'd let my hormones blind me to our reality. We were prisoners and I'd been sleeping with the enemy.
"Is that really what you think?" I asked, my voice dull.
A hint of discomfort crossed Tenn's face before he repeated his request. "Tell me who the text was from."
And if I did? What if that put Thatcher at risk? I'd made so many stupid mistakes since this whole situation began. I couldn't afford to make any more. "What if I tell you? Will you promise to give me back my phone?"
I wasn't sure it was the right thing to do, but I could compromise if it meant getting my phone back. I couldn't bear the idea that Thatcher would call and I'd miss him. Tenn made the decision easy.
"No phone. Not unless you're prepared to tell me everything. Who sent that text. What you're doing here. Everything." His jaw was set, eyes hard. Nothing about Tenn suggested he was willing to bend. I could meet him halfway but not if he wasn't going to do the same. Not when I had so much at risk.
"I can't," I whispered miserably.
I watched in stunned silence as Tenn got out of bed, grabbing my phone from the drawer. "I guess that's the end of that, then." He went into the bathroom and locked the door, shutting me out.
I didn't know what to do other than sit in bed with August and watch cartoons, hoping Tenn would be in a better mood when he came out of the bathroom. No such luck. He emerged, freshly showered and dressed, my phone sticking out of the front pocket of his jeans, his eyes hard and dark. "I need to get to work." Tenn left without another word.