Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
What if I dared to believe there could be a world where Gray and I had a real connection? What if I were brave enough to take my head and hormones out of the equation and see where things led? Would it lead to Gray, or am I just so desperate for a man to be kind to me that I’m being unrealistic?
“Gray hasn’t brought a woman around the ranch since high school,” Cathy says. “You can imagine my surprise when I saw him this morning and then discovered he brought you along.”
I pick up my fork again. “That was probably a shock, huh?”
She smiles over her shoulder. “Yes, but now that we’ve chatted for a few minutes and I’ve gotten a pretty good read on you, it’s also a delight. His momma would’ve loved you, Astrid. And that just makes this old woman’s heart so full.”
Huh? I shake my head, certain that I’ve misheard her. I put down my utensil before I drop it and it clatters to the floor.
“That’s … really nice of you to say,” I tell her, wondering if I should share that Gray and I aren’t together-together.
“I assume you know what happened to their parents,” she says, somber.
“Yes. Gray told me they died in a tornado.”
She nods, turning around and facing me. Crow’s feet pinch the corners of her eyes, and lines curve around her mouth. But her eyes, bright and blue, are as clear as the Caribbean waters. “When I told you that Gray’s heart can be to his detriment, what I meant was that he puts a lot of pressure on himself. Sometimes that leads to him carrying unnecessary guilt. That’s an important part of understanding who he is.”
I tune out the faint pinging from outside and the hum of the oven. My breaths deepen, pushing through the constriction in my throat. The air has shifted from light and fun to something heavier, something much more real. My gut tells me to listen … and take notes.
“Why do you say that?” I ask, my voice controlled.
“Well,” she says, drying her hands on a towel. “Gray was supposed to meet his dad in Omaha the weekend the tornado hit. Ronnie, Gray’s dad, had to pick up a horse from a friend that Sunday. At the last minute, Gray canceled, so Anne, his mom, went with Ronnie.”
No. I lay a hand on my chest, feeling it shake with every breath.
“That guilt isn’t his to carry around,” Cathy says. “And I know if Ronnie and Anne were here, they’d be so upset with him for feeling the way he does. It’s stolen a lot of joy from his life.” A slow smile touches her lips. “But that’s why I know they’d love you. This morning, Gray was the happiest that I’ve seen him since before they passed away.”
I grip the edge of the table as her words slam into my heart. This woman knows Gray through and through, and she believes that he’s happier than she’s seen him in years … because of me?
Before I can begin to process her observation, the door opens to the laundry room and the guys tromp in. They chatter back and forth like old friends. Seeing Gray so relaxed makes me smile. It also makes me question if Cathy is right. Maybe it’s being home that makes him happy and not me.
“There’s a gaggle of trouble,” Cathy says.
“We learned from the best.” Jasper kisses Cathy on the cheek. “Is that an apple pie?”
She bops him on the nose. “It is. And if you come back for supper, you can have a slice.”
“He'd better still be here helping me with this fence,” Hartley says, opening the fridge and tossing the guys each a bottle of water. “Especially since Gray has to leave.”
My gaze drifts to him. His shirt is thrown over his shoulder, and dirt spatters across his sweaty skin. He’s a real-life ad for pickup trucks or construction equipment, and I suddenly understand the attraction to a blue-collar man.
“Are you about ready to head back to Nashville?” he asks me.
“Yeah, sure.” I smile at him. “I’m ready when you are.”
“I’m going to grab a shower and then we can hit the road.”
“I’ll be ready.”
He walks behind me on the way to the shower, trailing his finger across the back of my neck. I avoid eye contact with anyone in the room as I fight a flurry of goose bumps breaking across my skin. Whether I’m addicted to his touch or have already been conditioned to associate it with earth-shattering orgasms, I don’t know. But as I watch him walk down the hallway, all I can think is I’m fucked—and not the way I want to be right now.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Astrid
“We haven’t been here in forever,” Audrey says as Chessie, our server, escorts us to a round table in the corner of the restaurant. “I can’t even remember what I order.”