Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 105231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Well, other than the fact that he was a complete idiot, of course. That should be flaw enough to have her running from him. To make her desire for him wane.
“What are you doing? Put me down!”
“No.”
“Travis, you can’t just boss me around and get your own way and do . . . do w-whatever you w-want.”
Shit. No.
This was what she wanted to avoid. She did not want to cry in front of him.
“Hush, Goldie. I know I messed up. I’m going to make it up to you, but first I just need to get you comfortable and settled, okay? Let me do that, all right? Just let me get you inside and protected.”
She should fight him, but she was all out of fight.
“And please, please, stop crying,” he begged.
“You just . . . you just caught m-me at a b-bad moment,” she told him. “I’m f-fine.”
“You’re not and it kills me that I’m partially to blame. But I’ll make sure you are. Where are your keys?”
“Handbag.” She realized that she still had hold of it and started searching through it until she found them. Then he walked to her door and she unlocked it. “N-need my b-bag.”
“I’ll get it for you,” he said in a surprisingly soothing voice. “Don’t worry.” He set her down on her couch and she wiped frantically at her eyes as he turned away. Moving so she was sitting rather than lying down, she quickly grabbed a tissue and tidied herself up. Then she reached up to make sure her hat was still covering the lump on her head.
Whew.
Now all she had to do was to get rid of this stubborn Neanderthal so she could just let go and cry without anyone as witness.
He returned with her bag.
“Thanks, Travis. But I really think you should go. I’m not in the mood for company.”
“Lucky I’m not company, huh?” He moved over to her and sat on the coffee table.
What was he doing?
He reached for her foot and she stared in shock as he slid her shoe off. Then he did the same to her other shoe. She was wearing her favorite pink slip-on sneakers. They were adorable with sparkly gemstones at the back.
Finally, he grabbed a cushion off the sofa and slid along the coffee table before placing it down next to him and resting her feet on top of it.
“You look like you need to get your feet up. You’re very pale. Let’s get that coat and hat off you.”
“No!” She shied back again as he reached for her.
He froze, putting his hands up into the air. “Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You . . . you didn’t scare me. I just . . . I’m cold.”
“Cold? It’s warm in here.”
“I’m always cold.”
“I’m just touching your hand, okay?” He reached down and grasped hold of her hand. “Shit, you are cold. You need a blanket.” He grabbed the blanket that she kept at the end of the sofa and placed it over her.
Great. Now she felt bad for lying to him. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. She was always cold.
But he was also being so sweet it was killing her. She couldn’t handle Travis being sweet to her right now. She needed him to be an asshole so she could kick him out of her apartment.
And take some more painkillers.
Leaning her head back against the sofa, she stared at him wearily. “Why are you here?”
“Well, it wasn’t to set off a panic attack.” He ran his hand over his face. “Did you not recognize me?”
“No,” she said dryly. “Just saw a strange man sitting in front of my apartment door.”
“And that was enough to give you a panic attack?” he asked.
“Not something you see every day.” Although before she’d met him that likely wouldn’t have made her spiral like that.
In fact, maybe if she hadn’t had a crappy twenty-four hours she’d have been better equipped to handle what just happened. But it felt like her shields were battered and bruised. Just like her.
And there wasn’t anything left in her tank to help her fight him. To give her the energy to push him away.
“I’m really sorry,” he said sincerely. “I’d never want you to be afraid of me, Goldie. I was just so worried about you.”
Oh God.
He was killing her. She tried to hold onto the remnants of anger, but they floated away. Instead, tears dripped down her cheeks again.
“Bollocks,” she muttered.
He smiled. “You really did pick up on some British slang while you lived there, huh?”
“They’ve got some good sayings.”
“Hmm. Like cockwomble.”
She winced. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I guess I was one. Sitting outside your door and scaring you into a panic attack.”
“It wasn’t . . . it wasn’t just that. It wouldn’t normally affect me like that. But I’ve had a rough twenty-four hours.”