Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Don’t. We both know what a good actress Claire is.”
“I know, but it’s not like her to get so upset over—” She clamped her mouth shut and looked away.
“Me,” I supplied, knowing that was the real source of Claire’s tirade.
“I know it’s none of my business what happens between you two.”
I laughed. “Vivian, nothing has been happening between us for years. She will always be Fin’s mother but—”
One of the roofers shouted, and my attention snapped to the roofline, where the man slipped and began falling. My stomach clenched as he flung out his arms but couldn’t stop, heading for the huge bronze weathervane that perched midway down the roof, right above—
“Morgan!” I shouted, already running as he slammed into the sculpture. The sound of cracking wood followed instantly as the weathervane tore free. “Above you!”
Her eyes flew from the roof to mine and then back up to where a hundred pounds of bronze plummeted toward where she sat with Finley.
Oh God, I wasn’t going to make it.
It was going to hit them.
Chapter Seven
Morgan
Just don’t be afraid to take another risk, okay?
Oh God.
There was no time.
I side-tackled Finley, taking her down in a mess of knees and elbows, and used my momentum to roll with my arms around her. As the sky filled my vision, so did the falling hunk of death, and I threw everything I had into the move.
Keep her on the bottom!
I landed on top, curving myself around her as much as possible. The object slammed into the ground with a booming thud in the same millisecond.
Sand and rocks blasted the side of my face.
My heart slammed against my ribs, the beat deafening.
“Finley! Morgan!”
I could hear the panic in Jackson’s voice, so I wasn’t dead. Right? And Finley was breathing under me, so she wasn’t, either.
“Oh, thank God!” Jackson shouted, skidding to a halt next to us and hitting his knees. “Are you okay?”
Words wouldn’t form, so I nodded.
“I’m okay,” Finley announced, her voice muffled under me.
She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay. I fell to the side, taking my weight off Fin, and Jackson immediately grabbed her to his chest.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, pushing her to arm’s length, looking her over for injuries.
I sat up slowly as workers and Fin’s grandmother came running.
The weathervane I’d been so damned insistent about had fallen from the roof. God, it was huge.
“I’m fine!” Finley promised.
It had landed right where we’d been a second ago, the enormous arrow stabbing through the edge of the blanket and pinning the fabric to the ground.
“Are you sure?” Jackson’s hands ran down her limbs quickly, no doubt checking for broken bones.
Someone helped me to my feet, and I wavered, my heart galloping. Feeling something wet streak my face, I stumbled away from the group. Of all the times to cry!
I made it as far as the base of my temporary steps before I was engulfed in a pair of arms and pressed against a firm, warm chest. The amazing combination of ocean, lemongrass, and soap filled my lungs as I breathed him in.
Jackson.
“Please tell me you’re okay,” he begged, his chin resting on the top of my head.
“I’m…f-f-f,” I stammered, my knees starting to shake. What the hell was wrong with me?
He pulled back, wincing at something he saw on my face and then scanning down my body. “Are you injured?”
I shook my head.
“Tell me if anything else hurts.”
Anything else?
His hands swept down my arms, then my ribs just under my breasts, over my belly, and then framed my hips, his eyes locking with mine every few seconds to see if I’d flinch.
Then he did the same from midthigh to my ankles. “No pain?”
I shook my head. “I’m f-f-fine,” I managed to get out.
He rose, standing so my eyes were level with his chest. “You’re not fine. You’re bleeding,” he said softly, his thumb brushing my cheek and coming away red.
Ah, so that was the wetness.
“I’m okay. I can wash up.” At least my mouth was working again. I turned to head toward my steps, but my knees went all wobbly.
“Yeah, no.” Jackson lifted me, putting one arm behind my back and the other behind my knees. “I’ve got you.”
“What’s wrong with me?” I asked as my hand trembled. Was this an anxiety attack? They’d never presented like this before.
“Adrenaline rush. It has nowhere to go,” he explained as he carried me across my yard, passing the small gathering of construction crewmembers. “It’ll pass in a few minutes, maybe a little longer.”
“I can clean my face,” I protested as he reached his driveway.
“Morgan, you just saved my daughter’s life. Could you please just let me help you?” he snapped.
I studied his face as he climbed his stairs. His jaw flexed, his lips pressed into a line, and in his eyes, there was a wildness—fear. Of course he’d been afraid. He’d nearly lost Finley.