Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“I know.”
“And he was awful about it. Like…” The memories came up from the basement where I’d locked them. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer. But what does he have to do with you asking me on a date?”
“You deserved so much more than him,” he said simply.
“I deserved you?” The words stuck in my throat because for a while there I’d believed that I did. That we’d deserved each other.
“No. You deserved better than me. Better than what your father was offering. But he was determined to see you married to a man he believed he could control.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because James Court and your father wouldn’t stop. And you know that.”
This should be humiliating. It was humiliating, but it was also entirely my father. And there was no level to which my father would not stoop to get what he wanted. And no he wouldn’t have cared what I thought. Or wanted.
“So, you offered yourself up as sacrifice.”
“It was never a sacrifice,” he said quietly, and I could feel this sudden, powerful desire to believe him. I wanted to believe that he might not have asked me out without the deal, but that he was happy once he had.
And that way lay ruin; I knew that.
“Did he offer James Court the land, too?”
“No. I asked for the land.”
“Oh, my God, you’re not as noble as you want me to believe, are you?”
He turned to face me, leaned forward so I couldn’t escape his gaze. I found myself holding my breath.
“Yes, I wanted the land. Yes, I wanted more control of the company. Yes, I was a greedy son of a bitch. But I wanted you, too. My mistake was I wanted everything.”
I wanted everything.
Clayton looked down at his hands with such intensity I looked at them, too, like maybe there was something there I wasn’t seeing and should.
But they were just his hands. Large and square.
“There’s always a choice to make,” he said. “I should have chosen you. I regret that I didn’t.”
Those words caught me up short. Chosen you. When had anyone chosen me? My father hadn’t. My sisters needed me, that wasn’t the same. Five years ago, I’d thought Clayton had. I thought he’d plucked me out of my ordinary life and settled me down in a fairy tale because he chose me. But I was just part of the jackpot he was sweeping up in his arms.
What would it be like, I wondered, to be someone’s first choice? To be the thing they wanted more than anything else?
I literally couldn’t imagine.
“Easy for you to say now. Now you have it all. You have the ranch. The business. Your land.”
“And you?” he asked.
I laughed. “Not like you had me. You won’t ever have me like that again.” No one would. That girl was gone.
And I needed to remember who I was now. And, more importantly, what I needed. I wasn’t here to feel bad about the past, I was here to secure the King sisters’ future.
And I was going to do it—and tie it up in a pretty bow. Because that was me.
I stacked my papers, tapping them against the table with a little click that was highly satisfying.
“Let’s discuss terms,” I said. “We’ve started with no lying.”
“No running away,” he countered. “Even if you’re hurt. You stay and we talk things over.”
I wrote those terms down and pretended to be nonchalant when I said, “No sex.”
“No deal.”
“Clayton—”
He leaned forward, his elbows on the small table between us. He smelled like weekend Clayton. No aftershave. Just coffee and mint.
“This will be real,” he said. “In every sense of the word. I want to be married to you, Ronnie. I want to live with you.”
“Where?”
“My condo.”
“My life is in Austin. My company. My house.” My house was kind of a dump and I could do my work anywhere, but I wasn’t conceding shit if I didn’t have to.
“I could move to Austin.”
I blinked at him. Stunned. Staggered, really.
“It will mean some travel and perhaps time apart. But I’m willing to make that work.” He cocked his head. “Are you?”
I hadn’t expected him to compromise. I’d expected him to be bossy and cruel and demanding. Not…giving. Reasonable. Or fair.
“I suppose that would be all right,” I said.
“What else?”
“No expectation of love,” I said. “I don’t expect you to love me and I don’t want you to expect that from me—”
“I have no expectations that you will love me,” he said firmly.
“Yeah,” I laughed, and it was bitter to my own ears. “Likewise.”
“You were quite keen on children during our last engagement. Have you changed your mind?”
It was like he’d forced the conversation around a corner I hadn’t seen coming and wasn’t prepared for. I sucked in a breath and shook my head.
“Then I agree to children,” he said.