Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
I swallow hard, not knowing what to do.
Do nothing, that’s what.
You wanted to put the girl in her place? You’ve done it.
Mission accomplished. Right?
When she starts to tense beneath me and a single teardrop roams down her cheek, the whole fucking world starts to crumble around me. In one unexpected motion, Billie jerks her body out from beneath mine, turns, and slaps me hard across the face.
I stand frozen, absorbing the blow of her hand.
The blow of seeing heartbreak in her eyes.
Oh God, what have I done here?
“Billie, I’m sorry.” The apology leaves my throat like broken glass.
“I never want to speak to you again,” she says in a halting whisper. Dizzy with denial, I reach for her, but the very possibility of being touched by me seems to horrify her and she flinches away. “Don’t ever put your hands on me again, either.”
“I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to…”
“Supposed to what?” she sobs, pissed and devastated at the same time.
Seeing her like this is like having my throat slashed.
Who could hurt this incredible girl so badly?
Am I really such a fucking monster? Could a monster feel so broken in the face of what he’d done? The destruction he’d caused?
I’m not coming to your little birthday party, Billie, just so we’re clear
You like me? What is this, second grade?
How much to breed you?
Echoes of the horrible shit I said to her stab my ears like daggers.
“You weren’t supposed to get to me. That’s not what this was supposed to be.”
“No shit,” she whispers. “But that’s what it was.”
Panic grabs me around the throat. “Not was. Is.”
“Was!” she shouts, voice cracking, stomping away from me, her shoulders shaking with sorrow. “I hate you. I hate you.”
I’m stumbling after her, breaking in half. “No, you don’t. Please don’t.” But she’s already out the door and running for her horse on unsteady legs. “Come back here.”
“I’ll never come back here,” she says, mounting her horse and wheeling around, preparing to ride away from me. For good. “I was wrong about you,” she whispers, her damp eyes looking down at me.
I go numb.
She was wrong about me.
She saw something that wasn’t there. I could never have been good enough for her.
As Billie rides away in a cloud of dust, she drags my black heart out of my chest, still beating, but damaged beyond recognition. She was willing to heal it for me and I just lost my chance to find out if she could.
Of course she could.
It belongs to her.
Do I have a chance in hell of convincing her to take it back?
To…try to see the good in me again?
I don’t know. But I have to try.
Because now that I’ve been graced by her light and honesty and goodness, I can’t live without her. Billie, come back.
ten
Billie
It’s the evening of my birthday and the last thing I feel like doing is celebrating.
The scent of vanilla wafts through the crack beneath the door of my room, a clue that my mother is baking me a cake for after dinner. My aunt, uncle and one remaining grandmother are coming to dinner tonight and I have no idea how I’ll force myself to be social. There’s an invisible knife protruding from the center of my chest.
I can’t seem to stop myself from crossing the room and easing back my curtains, allowing me to look out at Knox’s house, where it sits atop the mountain. Was I naïve to think he felt something more than lust for me?
Does he miss me at all?
Probably not.
I drop the curtain and slump.
For all I know, he’s going to send the bank to reclaim our ranch any day now. After all, I didn’t fulfill my end of the bargain. Not completely.
I walk to the full-length mirror positioned in the corner of my room, turning sideways to observe how the baby pink party dress fits me. I had hoped that putting on makeup and fancy clothes might elevate me from the dumps, but I’ve had no such luck. My chest burns with the pain of how Knox treated me the last time we were together.
Gone was any trace of the tenderness he’d given me before.
I was a body. Nothing more.
He didn’t kiss me or praise me or soothe me.
Just a quick, crude fuck to breed a female. Nothing more.
I lay a hand on my stomach and imagine it swelling larger with Knox’s baby.
I might not have to imagine it much longer, because my period is late. Only by one day so far, but even that small of a delay is unusual for me. I’m terrified that I might be pregnant. I’m also hoping that I am. If he was serious about bequeathing my family the ranch in exchange for a son, then I have to play the hand I’m dealt.
Would Knox let me be involved in the baby’s life?