Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 116760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Heart racing, he moved faster. He looked around the first floor for her and was just about to call for Hayes when he noticed the door off the kitchen that led to the back porch was slightly ajar.
Had she gone onto the back porch? The contractor she’d gotten had said they could safely walk on it, but it would need replacing in a year or two.
Heading out onto the porch, he looked around worriedly.
“Bebe?” he called out into the dark. Sunrise was around six-thirty here so it was starting to grow lighter, but he still couldn’t see her. “Are you out here?”
No reply.
Shit.
Why the hell would she have left the house without telling them?
Wait. The air changed. He could feel it. She was here. Then he heard a rustle. A creak of the roof.
“I’m up here.”
Up here?
Stepping farther out onto the porch, he turned and looked up.
To where she sat.
On. The. Freaking. Roof.
Corbin adjusted his glasses, certain he must be seeing things.
What the heck did she think she was doing? Had she even had that roof checked? Was it safe to sit on?
“Don’t move,” he barked.
Fuck. He hadn’t meant to sound that harsh, but his heart was racing in fear.
She seemed to freeze. “What is it? Do I have a spider on me? I have a spider on me, don’t I? Or is there something behind me? Oh God. What is it? A pigeon? Is it a pigeon? I hate those things. They’re so darn evil.”
“Bebe, just hush,” he said firmly. “There’s no spider or pigeon.”
Well, he hoped there wasn’t. He couldn’t actually see if there was or not.
“Then what’s wrong?” she asked, sounding genuinely confused.
“What’s wrong is that you’re sitting on a roof that you don’t know can support your weight.”
“Oh, I know it can.”
“You do?” he asked in surprise. “How?”
“I’m sitting on it, aren’t I?”
He didn’t . . . he couldn’t . . . what did he even say to that?
“Bebe, that doesn’t mean that the roof can support you! It just means that it hasn’t collapsed yet!”
“Oh, and I’ve also come up here a lot and there haven’t been any problems. Also, I had a roofing contractor check it when I bought the place. He said it’s good for another couple of years.”
Relief flooded him. “You couldn’t have led with that?”
“Well, I could have,” she teased. “But that wouldn’t have been as much fun, would it?”
“Bebe,” he said warningly. “Not nice.”
She let out a deep sigh. “Sorry. You’re right. That wasn’t very nice. But maybe I’m not a nice person. That’s what people think of me, right? That I’m a spoiled brat who was given every opportunity and squandered them. I never finish anything I start. My dad bails me out of everything. Not worthy of being loved. Poor little rich girl.”
He sucked in a breath at everything she had just bombarded him with. His mind filtered through it all, trying to sort out where to begin.
Poor little rich girl.
He was at war with himself, part of him wanting to snatch her off that roof and smack her ass for putting herself at risk . . . and the other part wanted to hug her tight. To reassure her that she was none of those things.
And that she was definitely worthy of being loved.
God. That part might hurt most of all. How could she believe she wasn’t worthy of being loved?
“Do you think that about yourself?” he finally asked. “That you’re spoiled? That you’re not worthy of being loved?”
“Well, I guess you’ve got to look at the evidence, huh? No one has ever truly loved me. Is that because I’m not worth the hassle?”
“Your parents—” he began.
“Don’t be fooled by the supposed concern they’re showing, Corbin,” she interrupted in a voice devoid of any emotion.
Which told him that she probably felt a lot, she was just keeping it pushed down.
“They aren’t actually worried about me,” she added. “They’re concerned about the headlines. Well, I suppose my father might be somewhat worried about me. It’s hard to believe when he barely knows me.”
“I’m sure he’s more than somewhat worried. And he must know you at least a little considering he’s your father.”
She stared down at him for a long moment. “Do you have a good relationship with your family?”
“I . . . yes, I do.”
“Your parents?”
“Uh, I lost my dad five years ago. A heart attack. But I’m close with my mom and two older sisters.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said in a soft voice. “That must have been hard.”
He swallowed heavily. “It was. He was a good man. A good dad.”
“I’m so glad you had that. But not everyone does. Some people have parents they never see. They’re raised by a series of nannies and their parents don’t even know them. Until suddenly, they start demanding to know them and then can’t understand why their kids treat them like strangers . . . or so I’ve heard.”