Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
The door is closed and I head back the way I came. There’s no traffic and fewer people out, but it’s peaceful even if my heart is in turmoil. I lower my head when the snow starts up again. Crossing the street, I keep walking, thinking about what I’m going to order from room service. I’m starving after the trek I’ve done—my body physically exhausted and my mind emotionally tired. At the corner, I try to decide which way to go to the closest hotel.
“Hardy?”
Looking up, standing not even ten feet away is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. My heart starts to pound, trying to reach her. “Virginia.”
She stands there, and with each tentative step I take, her face comes into focus. Black lines streak her face, wet hair sticking to her forehead. She’s got no hat and no gloves. She’s got no sweet pink to her cheeks that I’ve always loved. But she carries something stronger in her eyes, something devastating, something that stops the pounding in my chest, and shatters my heart. When I reach her, she starts to cry, and says, “I’m so sorry.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ionce knew this girl.
Pretty. So pretty it hurt sometimes.
Smart. Whip smart and clever. She always kept me on my banter toes.
Shy with the world, but bold with me.
It wasn’t that long ago that I met her, only a month or so, but long enough to know. This is not that same girl before me.
I close the gap and wrap my arms around her as tight as I can. Her jaw is chattering and she’s freezing cold. Her body is wracked with sobs as if she’s held in a lifetime of pain. “We need to get you inside.”
When I start to turn, she frantically grabs for my arms. “Hardy, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”
Holding in my own lifetime of chaotic emotions that’s built up since the day I met her, I run my thumbs over her cheeks, wanting the black gone from her sweet face. Then I reach into my pocket and pull out her gloves. I thought she’d be happy to have them but she bursts into tears again. “Why are you so nice?” she asks, her tone tingeing on anger. “I don’t deserve it.”
She slips the gloves on and I take my beanie off and pull it down on top of her head, making sure to cover her ears. “Let’s talk about that when we’re inside. You’ll be sick if we stay out here much longer.” She concedes with a nod. I wrap my arm around her and we walk back to her building.
We’re greeted with a mile wide drunken smile. “Merry Christmas Eve, Ms. Ryan. Hardy, good to see you found what you were looking for.”
“It took a while and I made a few detours, but it’s good to finally reach my destination.”
He rushes behind the counter to get something. When he reaches us at the elevator, he hands them to us. “Here’s a tissue for you, Ms. Ry—”
“Virginia. Please call me Virginia.
With a smile that borders on permanent, he hands me the treat bag from the coffee shop. “You can give it to her yourself now.”
“Thanks, Barry. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. May I suggest both of you stay indoors and ride this storm out.”
This is where I’m going to need a whole helluva lot of credit. I couldn’t have asked for a better setup. But even I know there’s a time and place and this isn’t the time or the place.
Virginia’s eyes meet mine, and she asks me, “Will you stay, through the storm?”
Taking her hand in mine, I lean down and kiss her cheek. “We can weather the storm together.” The doors to the elevator open, and we step on. “Good night, Barry.”
“Good night.”
She moves closer and leans her head on my arm, our hands clasped together. We both stare at the counter as the floors tick by. Every swallow is thick and loud and I know she can feel my heart beating unsteady, unsure of where we are, and what’s to come for us.
On her floor we still hold hands until we’re inside her warm apartment. The door is locked and we strip off the heavier layers. No one is breaking the quiet moments that weave between us, both of our nerves showing in our unease. She turns, but I take possession of her hand again, and stop her. “Hey?”
Her eyes fixate on me, the questions there.
“You’re cold,” I add. “Come with me.”
Like me, she’s either too tired or too cold to fight, and she follows without argument. Turning on the shower, I make sure to turn on the hot water. She stands behind and if I didn’t know better, I could swear her gaze smacked my ass a few times as she ogled it. Catching her in the act, I say, “See something you like?”