Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Then she jogs around me, on her way to what I assume is the bedroom.
“I want you out of here,” she says, pushing the tip of her finger into my chest. “Now.”
Once she’s closed the door of her bedroom, I turn to leave. There’s no way she’s going to agree to help me. As much as I see some longing in her eyes, some of the chemistry we’ll always share, there’s also contempt and anger. So much fucking anger.
I’m going to have to figure out another way. Maybe I can hire my own attorney to contest the will. I don’t know if it’ll help, but I can try.
When I open the door of the apartment, I find Bridger Blackwell standing there with a smile. When he sees that it’s me, that smile fades. His oldest brother, Brooks, climbs the stairs behind him.
“Hey, Holden,” Bridger says with a confused frown, just as rage begins to course through my blood. “What are you doing here?”
“I’d like to ask you the same fucking question.”
CHAPTER THREE
MILLIE
Holy. Shit. What in the hell kind of alternate universe did I just wake up in?
I have to lean on the door of my bedroom, hand pressed to my chest as I will my galloping heart rate to slow down. Bridger and Brooks are waiting for me, and I’m hiding in here, having an existential crisis up against this door.
“I don’t have time for this.” I march over to the last open moving box and pull out the clothes I set aside to wear today, dump my robe inside of it, and close the flap.
After I dress, I brush my hair and tie it up in a loose messy bun, wash my face, brush my teeth, and then toss all the last-minute toiletry items into yet another box.
After pulling my sheets and comforter, along with the pillows and cases, off of the bed, I put those into a tote, planning to wash them at the new place, and then take a moment to pull in a deep breath.
Holden Lexington just asked me to marry him. I don’t think I dreamed that. He stood in my apartment and asked me to marry him, and he has a wild rose tattoo on his freaking arm.
A tattoo. For me.
I want to touch it and examine it and ask him all the questions.
Essentially, all of my nineteen-year-old fantasies just came true, except he’s eight years too late. I can’t stand him, and he asked simply because he wants me to help him keep his property.
Not because he loves me.
I snort at that thought. Of course, he doesn’t love me. If he loved me, he wouldn’t have been so cruel all those years ago. But he was cruel, and I learned my lesson about trusting Holden Lexington. I need to remember that. Marrying him is preposterous.
With that decided, I step out of my bedroom and frown at the crazy amount of testosterone filling the living room.
Bridger and Holden are practically toe-to-toe, both with their hands fisted, jaws clenched, ready to duke it out. They really are a sight to behold. Both so tall and broad. Muscular. Tattoos, tanned skin, thick hair.
And there’s Brooks, scowling, also hot as hell, hands on his hips.
“Enough.” My voice is hard. “I don’t know what either of you is trying to prove, but enough.”
“I want to know why he’s here,” Bridger says without sparing me a glance.
“Same goes,” Holden adds, and Brooks pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. The Blackwell brothers and Holden have been friends since way back.
But Bridger is Brooks’s brother.
What’s a guy to do?
“Brooks and Bridger are helping me out today,” I say at last, turning my eyes to the ceiling in frustration. “And Holden is just…here.”
I’m not going to blab about Holden’s personal life. As much as I want to strangle him, that’s not my story to tell.
“Are you going to load my bed up in your truck or what?” I demand, staring at Bridger. “For fuck’s sake, stop it with the dick-measuring contest. I’m not sleeping with either of you, so just stop it.”
Holden’s shoulders relax, his fists loosening.
And Bridger does the same.
Bridger is maybe the only person in the world who knows the whole story of what went down between me and Holden. Several years ago, when we had some drinks and were really talking, the story just came out of me, and he listened without judgment. I needed a friend right then, and I know that Bridger considers Holden a close friend, too.
Which is why this is so freaking weird.
“Guys, we don’t have time for this. I’d really like to have all my things moved over by noon so I can work on getting unpacked and settled before I have to go back to work tomorrow. So, please, for the love of all that’s holy, stop the staring contest. I’ll talk to you later, Holden.”