Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
He suddenly looks up at that moment, and my chest tightens when our gazes meet. There’s something in his eyes. Just something that almost makes me want to ask for an explanation. Because surely...
Surely he has one.
Right?
I force myself to look away. Refocus on the job at hand. It’s cup 55 now, but this time, my hands are shaking so bad that it takes more effort than usual to carefully pour cider into a cup.
Just don’t spill, just don’t spill, please don’t let anything spill, God.
Because I’m pretty sure Kimberly would know I’ve let her get under my skin if she sees me messing up.
I can feel him watching me even as Kimberly stares at him (I’m sure of this for some reason), and I just don’t get it. And him. I don’t get him at all. One moment, he makes me feel like I’m his world. The next moment, it’s as if I’m also invisible to his gaze.
Could it be that this is all a game to him?
That I’m so blinded by how beautiful he is that I don’t realize that maybe, just maybe...he’s not as nice as I think, and it’s exactly like Kimberly says? That he’s slumming it with me while he tries to figure out what’s the next goal for a hotshot racer like him?
My heart is aching so bad by the time they come close enough for me to hear what Kimberly’s saying. They’re not exactly next to my table, but Kimberly’s voice is just so...bright that it easily carries over the crowd.
"We've been spending a lot of time together," she's saying, and that sentence is performing Olympic-level gymnastics. "He's been showing me around. Teaching me about racing. It's been—" She laughs. Touches his arm for the 22nd time. "It's been wonderful."
The woman from the bank looks between them with interest. "Oh, how lovely! And will you be staying in Jackson Hole long, Mr. Aleotti?"
“It hasn’t been decided yet.”
Kimberly’s the one who says this, and the fact that he’s letting her answer on his behalf...
I just don’t understand what’s happening, God.
Please.
Please help me understand.
The woman from the bank smiles at Santino. "I hope you’ve been enjoying our little town while you’re here.”
“Oh, he is.” And for some reason, Kimberly looks at me while she says this. “I’m making sure of it.”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I see him again.
He's walking back toward my table. Alone this time. No Kimberly attached to his arm. Just him in that dark jacket with snow starting to fall again, dusting his shoulders.
He's coming straight toward me.
No, no, no.
He reaches the table. Stops. Doesn't say anything at first. Just looks at me with an expression I can't read.
"Hot cider?" I ask, because apparently when faced with emotional complexity, my brain defaults to customer service.
"No. Thank you." His voice is quiet. Formal. "I would like to speak with you."
"I'm—”
“No, actually, forget that.”
Okaaaay.
“What I’d like instead is for you to dance with me.”
Uh...what?
"Dance with me, Thea.”
I square my shoulders, intending to turn him down, but Jolie suddenly shows up—
This is bad.
“I’ll take over,” my friend offers with a beam. “Go ahead and have fun.”
Why is she siding with him all the time? Like, seriously. Can’t she see how much I’m hurting?
I still intend to put my foot down...but it’s no use. These two are unstoppable as a team, and the next thing I know, Jolie already has my apron in her hand while Santino is taking my hand and...it’s suddenly so, so hard to breathe, with his warm fingers closing around mine.
I can feel people watching—and Kimberly has to be one of them since I can also feel someone shooting visual daggers at my back—as Santino’s other hand finds my waist. I should probably pull away or worry about all the attention we’re attracting.
But...here’s the thing.
I’m not just breathless now. I’m also mindless. It’s simply impossible to think when there’s no longer any space between our bodies, no longer any inches to count or distance to measure.
There’s just him, just us, and the music playing something slow and soft while the snow falling around us like we're inside one of those globes you shake.
“I’m sorry, Thea.”
Was he really?
“I know my actions may not show it, but this is one of those times I need you to believe in my words. I need you to believe in me when I say that there’s nothing going on between Kimberley and me.”
Then why were they together?
Why was he letting her touch him like he was hers?
And why was I such a coward...that I couldn’t make myself ask any of these out loud?
“I need you to believe me, Thea.” His hand tightens slightly on my waist, and I can
feel each finger individually, can feel the pressure and the warmth and the way he's holding me like I might disappear if he lets go. "There’s a reason behind it. But I’m worried you’ll misunderstand the truth, and that’s why...I just need you to believe me.”