Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
What is going on here?
The stranger takes another step closer, blocking Waylon’s view of his hand, which is deftly sliding his business card into my pocket. Without touching me, I notice. Keeping the boundary I set. Oh. “Come see me when you build enough courage,” he says to Waylon. “Or should I say if you build enough courage.” Another step toward Waylon and he’s looming over my husband. “If you cause her pain again, I will know. And I will strike from the darkness when you least expect it. You won’t survive the first blow.”
I’ve never seen my husband shaken. Not in the two weeks we’ve been living under the same roof. Or the two years he haunted my family leading up to the wedding day, vowing to take me as collateral for their missed payments. Ultimately succeeding.
The stranger gives me a meaningful look as he strides away, turning the corner and disappearing at the end of the aisle. I wait until Waylon storms off out of the supermarket, cursing a blue streak, before unearthing the business card from my pocket.
Caleb Draper. Licensed therapist.
Unconventional methods.
On the back, he has written a two-word message. For my eyes alone.
Trust me.
CHAPTER 3
Caleb
It takes her forty-eight hours to call.
Honestly, I expected longer from my stubborn supermarket angel.
I don’t mind admitting that I paced a lot during those two days, primarily because the fact that she’s married—and to an abusive buffoon, no less—is a crime against humanity. Could I have tracked her down and stolen her away from him in the wee hours of the night? Yeah. I have those capabilities.
But I’m a smarter man than that.
Kidnapping or force will not work with this woman.
She needs to come to me. What happens between us needs to be her decision.
I look at my watch.
Ashley and her husband, Waylon, are set to arrive at my office in three minutes. When I hear the muffled croon of Willie Nelson blasting in the parking lot, followed by the crank of a parking brake, my pulse begins to beat low and slow. A sniper waiting in the hills for the perfect moment to pull the trigger. And I will be pulling it this afternoon.
For Ashley’s sake.
For my own sanity.
I refuse to leave this woman in a situation making her so miserable. Not to mention, his behavior will only escalate—and I don’t allow villains to win anymore.
I take matters into my own hands.
In this instance, I will be taking her into my own hands, too. Come hell or high water.
There’s a loud knock on the door of my office, but I don’t move right away from my cross-armed lean against the lip of my desk. I listen.
“I’m only staying for fifteen minutes,” Waylon snaps. “I’m meeting the boys for the fishing trip in an hour and I ain’t even packed my equipment yet.”
Fishing trip. Perfect.
There’s a sigh from Ashley and my stomach tightens in response, the anticipation of seeing her again—finally—prickling my palms, my scalp.
“Is there any chance the boat will sink?” she asks, hopefully.
Alone in my dark office, I smile. Then I let it drop.
Put my game face on and push off my desk, crossing to the door and opening it, my attention zeroing in on her face. Her pupils expand as our eyes meet, her chest dipping almost unnoticeably. I notice. I can’t imagine a world where I don’t notice every little thing about her. For instance, her hands meet and clasp below her navel when I murmur her name in greeting, as if she’s unconsciously trying to block her pussy from view.
Is it already having a response to me?
Maybe that’s why she looks so annoyed.
God, she’s beautiful. Glasses in place, hair in a tight braid. An oversized pea coat.
You can’t hide perfection from me, angel. I see you.
Her husband, on the other hand, has his thumbs tucked under his armpits, chin thrust out, like a belligerent clown. Impatient to go pack his tackle box, instead of focused on fixing his marriage to this goddess who is a million miles out of his league.
“I’ll enjoy taking her from you, Waylon,” I say.
His eyes bug out. “What?”
“Her coat,” I say smoothly, stepping back to let them cross the threshold. “I’ll enjoy taking her coat.”
He hesitates, trying to puzzle through my statement, before roughly nudging Ashley inside. And just like that, I’m picturing his blood staining my walls.
Easy, Caleb.
Play the long game.
Keeping a censorious eye on Waylon, I hold out my hand for Ashley’s coat, but she shakes her head, bundling the wool tighter to her body. “I’ll keep it on.”
“Very well.” I just barely manage to avoid slamming the door behind them. “Have a seat.”
Waylon stomps deeper into the office and drops onto the couch that faces my leather wingback chair, sniffing. “Just what the hell are we planning to do here, exactly? I don’t have a lot of time.”