Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“I know.”
Daff sighed heavily. “I’ll sort it out.”
“I know.”
Damn it. Her sister’s unwavering faith killed Daff. That was a hell of a lot to live up to.
CHAPTER THREE
Bland!
Thwack.
Insipid!
Thwack.
Boring!
Thwack! Thwack! Thwa—
“Fuck! Balls! Shit!” Spencer swore when his ax lodged in the fallen tree he’d been attempting to split for firewood. It wasn’t his favorite chore and he’d been delaying the job for days, but he needed to get the anger out of his system and could think of no better outlet than violent physical activity. It was this or beat the shit out of the punching bag in the makeshift gym that doubled as his home office. He had chosen this option because at least it yielded positive results from released negative energy.
Well, that was the idea, anyway. He glared at his stuck ax and swore again, wiping his forearm across his forehead to prevent the sweat beading there from dripping into his eyes. He tugged at the ax before releasing his breath on yet another curse word. He wasn’t getting the damned thing unstuck anytime soon. He’d need a chain saw or something to dislodge it.
God. Sometimes she pissed him off.
She made him feel capable of conquering mountains one day and smaller than a bug the next. It was very fucking unhealthy, and he knew it. But today . . . to hear those words from her. The wake-up call had been a long time coming, but it was welcome nonetheless. Just what he needed to get her out of his head once and for all. He didn’t know how someone with such a rancid personality could have come from such a perfectly lovely family. It was baffling, really. And she was one to comment on his character, when hers was as grating as nails on a chalkboard.
Frustrated, he lifted his arms and linked his fingers behind his head as he glowered blindly at the wind-felled tree. Why did he always let her get to him? Daffodil McGregor had been treating him like a second-class citizen since . . . well, since forever, really, and he was done with her. She was unreasonable and a little unhinged and it would be better if—after this wedding—he stayed as far away from her as humanly possible.
On the upside, at least her obnoxiousness had taken his mind off the fact that his brother was leaving again. The news, while unsurprising, had shaken him more than he cared to admit. After Mason and Daisy left, he’d be alone once more. He had some friends, sure, cultivated relationships with the occasional woman, but he never felt like he was truly a part of something. For a while, when he was dating Tanya, he’d felt like he finally belonged somewhere and with someone. Only to find her sandwiched between two guys in his bed one day. She’d had the nerve to smile when she spotted him in the doorway. Smile and invite him to join them.
He’d tossed them all out on their naked asses and then he’d burned the bed.
He’d loved that fucking bed.
Awesome. Now he was remembering Tanya spit-roasted between two guys. Not pretty, and yet the memory didn’t sting half as much as the recollection of Daffodil McGregor saying he had the personality of a mushroom. A mushroom, for fuck’s sake!
He growled. He actually growled like a wild animal, shocking himself in the process. He threw a longing stare at his ax before wearily making his way to his home gym.
It looked like the punching bag was going to get that workout after all.
The following night, Daff glared at her phone screen in frustration. There they were, in stark black and white. Two words. Sincere and yet completely inadequate.
I’m sorry.
She couldn’t send it to him. She wanted to. She so desperately wanted to send it and then be able to tell Lia in all honesty that she had apologized, but she knew that it was a cop-out and she also knew that Spencer deserved more. It had already taken her more than twenty-four hours to get to this point. She had spent the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday cleaning and telling herself to get busy apologizing to the man. Yet she still hadn’t plucked up the courage to do anything more than stare at the two simple words on a phone screen.
She hit “Delete” and watched the words disappear from her screen. One tiny letter at a time. She scrolled through her contacts until she found his name, and her thumb hovered over the “Call” button for a very long time. She should go to his store tomorrow, apologize in person. But if she called first, paved the way, so to speak, it might be easier than just going in cold. She could start laying the groundwork now. It would be better if she didn’t have to look at him when she did it.