Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
It’s selfish because I know I’m a broken fucking man and I can’t give her anything worth getting in return.
I swallow it all down and force myself to focus on things that make sense.
“Sounds like the art world’s rolling out the red carpet,” I finally say, keeping my voice light. “Clearly, they know talent when they see it.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” She sinks back against the pillow. “And you’d think after twenty years of killing myself to keep Bishop Galleries thriving, I’d want this. That I’d want to prove what I’m capable of to myself and anyone who doubted me. But…” Her shoulders lift in a helpless shrug. “I don’t know. The thought of packing up, starting over, diving headfirst into a new career that will demand all my time and energy…” She trails off, shaking her head. “I feel…tired.”
I shift onto my side, close enough to see the three tiny freckles scattered across her cheekbones.
“Sometimes I don’t even know who I am without the galleries,” she murmurs.
Damn if it doesn’t gut me to see a woman as perfect and beautiful and smart and funny as Breezy Bishop look like she doesn’t know where she belongs. She deserves more than that. She is more than that.
“You’re more than a job title, Breezy,” I say quietly. “More than a gallery or a city. More than the art world. Don’t forget that.”
“I don’t know if you’re right about that.” Her throat works as she swallows, and for a second, I think she might cry. Instead, she presses her forehead against my chest. I wrap my arms around her without thinking and pull her tight against me.
“Breezy, you’re the woman who helped me deliver twin lambs in a snowstorm,” I whisper into her hair. “The woman who can make Randy stop bitching, which is a damn miracle, by the way. You’re an amazing aunt to Autumn. You’re an amazing sister and sister-in-law to Bennett and Norah. My sheep listen to you more than they listen to me, and Crosby refuses to take off that fucking yellow scarf you knitted because I honestly think he believes the two of you are dating in his pea-sized little brain.”
A soft laugh bubbles up from her throat.
“Breezy, you’re the incredible woman who everyone in town is happy to see. Including me. You’re intelligent and beautiful and bossy as hell, but fuck, I think you’re pretty goddamn great.” Just your smile alone has the ability to make me forget how fucking broken I am.
“Thanks. Really. That means a lot.” That earns me a small smile, and it’s all I need to tip her chin up, brush my thumb along her jaw, and kiss her.
The kiss is soft and lingering and something that feels like a promise even though I can’t give her one. She slides her hand up my chest, fingers curling into me like she’s holding on for more than just tonight.
I roll her beneath me, easing the phone out of reach, and when she looks up at me with those big blue eyes of hers, I silently fear that I’ll never be ready for her to choose London or Miami or anywhere that isn’t here.
Which makes me the world’s biggest asshole because I can’t give her more than these fleeting moments of time.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, because it’s the only way I know how to keep her close without asking her to stay.
26
Breezy
Friday, March 12th
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Red Bridge, it’s that these people can turn absolutely anything into a holiday.
And tonight is evidence of that fact.
It’s the town’s tenth annual Winter Line Dancing Festival, which isn’t even an actual holiday and lands a mere eight days away from spring on the calendar.
No one outside Red Bridge has ever heard of it, but tonight, Clay’s bar is packed shoulder to shoulder like it’s Mardi Gras. Apparently, it’s a Red Bridge tradition for everyone to get together to celebrate winter’s last gasp by stomping boots in unison to whatever fiddle music the band cranks out.
I can’t decide if it’s ridiculous or charming. Maybe both.
The air is thick with beer and fried food. Josie’s behind the bar with Clay, and a big smile is on her face as she teases her husband in between pours. Bennett and Norah have already claimed a table, Autumn sitting between them in her pink cowgirl boots with a Shirley Temple and a pile of maraschino cherries. Sheriff Peeler is making the rounds, clapping everyone on the back like he’s grand marshal of the parade.
And I’m standing off to the side of the dance floor, half amused and half wondering if I should get the hell out of here before I end up line dancing with Mayor Wallace.
“Fancy seeing you here.” I know the voice before I see his face and turn to find Tad standing beside me, a grin of pure confidence on his face. “Dance with me, Miss Bishop?” His hand is already outstretched like he knows damn well I’ll take it.