Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“He isn't the one who dragged me into this,” I burst out. “I couldn't tell him.” I choked on the words but forced them out. “I couldn't tell him it was my dad. I was so ashamed that my family did this to him.”
West sighed. “Go see him. You're both idiots, feeling like crap over someone else's mess. Bring him something sweet and tell him you're sorry and everything'll be good. I promise.”
“He's not mad at me?” I asked, feeling exactly like the idiot West said I was.
J.T. was the one who answered. “Why don't you go ask him yourself?”
“Good idea,” West agreed. “Head over to The Inn and see Royal. Don't talk to your grandmother or your parents until I have your dad in custody, okay?”
“I won't, I swear.”
Now that I'd unloaded the whole mess on West, I was more than happy to wash my hands of it. All I wanted to do now was make things right with Royal. I hated the way I'd left him in the parking lot earlier. I should have told him everything right away. It seemed like he'd figured it out mostly, but I owed him the truth.
West let himself out, reminding us to stay off the phone and lie low. My dad was probably at Grams' house finishing the dinner she'd cooked for him.
“We have just enough time while that pie cools to get you fixed up,” J.T. said. “What did you do, stand under the waterfall?”
My hair was beyond saving. Too much mist from the waterfall and not enough product. Who was I kidding? There wasn't enough product in the universe to prevent a frizz explosion when I sat behind the waterfall. Usually, I wore a hat or wrapped it up, but today I hadn't been thinking. J.T. to the rescue.
I wasn't wasting the time it would take to wash my hair and start from scratch, so J.T. pulled it back from my face, turning the poof of frizz into a rounded bun. I swear if he weren't in culinary school he would have made an awesome hair-stylist.
A quick wash of my face, new makeup, and a sundress repaired most of the damage. My eyes were still a little puffy from all the crying I'd done in the past few days, but at least I no longer looked like I'd been dragged out from under a wet rock.
Almost ready, I pulled out my phone to text Royal. I was saving my apology for in-person, but I wanted to make sure he was still there.
I'm coming over to return your car and bring you a present. Are you in your office?
He answered almost immediately.
I'm here. Are you leaving now?
I'll be there in a few minutes. See you soon.
See you soon.
That was the idea, but soon turned out to be a lot longer than I'd planned. All we had to do was drive to The Inn and walk inside. What could possibly go wrong?
As it turned out, everything.
Everything could go wrong. And everything did.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Daisy
J.T. blocked me at the bottom of the steps and held out his hand. “You're way too upset to drive. Give me the keys.”
J.T. was always good at making me laugh. “Right. You know I'm fine to drive, you just want to get behind the wheel of Royal's car.”
“Guilty. Now hand over the keys. You know he wouldn't mind.”
I dropped the keys into his outstretched palm and opened the passenger door, carefully setting the pie at my feet. Royal definitely wouldn't mind if J.T. drove his car, and I didn't care. It was a cool car, no doubt, but I'd had my turn and hopefully would again. All I could think about was getting to Royal.
I was halfway in the passenger seat when something thumped hard on the roof of the car, followed by a grunt.
“J.T.?”
We needed to get better lighting in the alley behind the bakery. All I could see was shadows, two of them, swaying and dipping in and out of the faint light from Main Street. Another grunt, this one of pain.
I shot out of the seat, stumbling a little in my sandals as I rounded the back of the car to get to J.T. He was struggling with someone the same height as him but more slender. Dark hair, pale face, and a flash of metal.
Vanessa, and she had a knife.
What the hell? Why would she go after J.T.?
I shifted my weight, looking for an opening, for any way to get her off J.T. With that knife flashing and the two of them in a combative dance, I couldn't get close. Physically, I was outmatched, but I had my voice and I had a phone. Somewhere.
Racing back around the car to find my phone, I started to scream. Main Street was mostly deserted this time of night, but someone had to be close enough to hear me.