Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“Thank you.”
With no choice but to walk into the dark, scary room off the hallway, I push open the tall, creaking door and search the wall for a light switch. When the frosted globes glow to life on the ceiling, my mouth can only hang open. It’s huge. Shelves and shelves of books run the length of the walls. Several are open on a desk in the corner. Others are stacked on tables. Big, fluffy couches are arranged beneath windows and tucked into corners. And all I can think about is how perfect a location this would be to write in my diary.
Night has fallen completely now, so I cast a long shadow on the floor of the library as I tiptoe toward the closest wall of books, hesitating only a moment before climbing the ladder attached to the ceiling. Catching my bottom lip between my teeth, I give in to the mischief and push off, sailing the ladder diagonally from one end of the library to another, my giggle echoing off the walls.
“Having fun?” Alistair’s deep velvet voice comes from the doorway and I gasp, almost falling a handful of feet off the ladder. When I turn around, he’s halfway across the library floor, his hand extended, the color drained from his face. “Jesus Christ. Get down before you break your pretty neck.”
“Yes, sir,” I say automatically in response to his authoritarian tone. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to kick myself, though.
I shouldn’t be rushing to grant this man’s wishes after what happened, right? I grew up with two older brothers and neighborhood bullies. I’m made of sterner stuff than most. Raising my chin, I pause in the act of climbing off the ladder.
“If you didn’t creep up on me like a weirdo, I wouldn’t have almost fallen,” I snap over my shoulder. Then I toss my almost dry hair for good measure.
“I’m the weirdo?” He snorts. “You were the one tiptoeing through my house like Nancy Drew trying to solve a mystery.”
Lord, will the humiliations ever end? “You were watching me?” I don’t wait for him to answer that obvious question. “Maybe that’s how a normal person walks around a big, dark, empty house—”
I break off mid-rant when his hands settle on my waist, plucking me off the ladder. A second later, my feet land softly on the ground and I’m pulled back against Alistair’s chest, his breath ghosting over my hair. “You’re right.” Slowly, his arms wrap around me, as if testing how it feels. “This house is big, dark and empty. That much was never more obvious than when I heard you…laugh.” His swallow is audible. “I didn’t come in here to argue with you.”
Awareness prickles along my skin, especially when his open mouth drags up behind my ear, exploiting that sensitive patch of skin. “Why did you come in here?”
“I tried not to.” He sounds frustrated. “But this…I don’t know, this burning in my stomach won’t go away. It has been there since what happened downstairs. I think it’s guilt.” It’s obvious the admission was painful. “I don’t know what to do about it.”
Why is his honesty making my knees weak? “You could apologize.”
“I never apologize.” His chest heaves twice against my back. “But if I did want to apologize, what would be the appropriate way to go about it?”
“You’d say, ‘I’m sorry, Shelby’.”
His scoff blows my hair forward. “Words? Words don’t mean shit.”
“They do to me.” He makes a sound of disagreement and I start to pull away, but his hand creeps inside my robe, smoothing across my belly, squeezing my hip. That touch leaves a trail of lava in its wake, my core clenching hotly between my legs. “What…” I breathe, struggling to maintain the order of my thoughts. “What happened to make you think words mean nothing?”
His hand stops moving on my belly. “Here we go again with the personal questions.” I try to wiggle my way free of his arms, but he holds tight, cursing under his breath. “My family couldn’t afford to feed all of us, once upon a time, okay? Me, my mother and two sisters—they were twins. My father was a pathetic man who thought his rock band would get a big break eventually. Even after a decade of no real success. He kept telling us our big payday was around the corner, but it was just an excuse to waste money and stay out all night drinking with his friends.” He pulls me closer, as if needing the additional strength. “I was the oldest. I ate the most, grew the fastest and needed new clothing most often. But my worst transgression was doing well in school, making my father feel inadequate. And so, one afternoon, they voted to throw me out.”