Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Chapter Four
A week had passed since Chloe moved in with Beck. A week during which she’d given herself permission to grieve – not Owen but the life she’d thought she’d be living. Yes, a part of her wanted marriage and children with the right man, and she’d thought she’d been taking her first step in that direction.
Instead she was forced to confront her choices, and she wasn’t happy with what she saw. A woman who’d graduated from college with a major in interior design but who’d taken the easy route, going into the family business and listening to her brother’s dictates on layout, color schemes, and style. A woman who did as her family expected. One who chose a man because he was unlike her father in his moral compass, or so she’d thought, not because she was madly in love with him.
When she looked back, she realized Owen had talked her into the engagement, using all the buzzwords he knew would entice her, from them being a good fit to their wanting the same things to the fact that her parents approved. And when her father had been diagnosed with dementia, she’d fallen back into the pattern of a girl wanting to make her dad happy. She’d been holding on to the ideal of a parent who loved his family but lacked the ability to be faithful. But her brothers hadn’t liked Owen, and that should have been her major clue.
She just hadn’t wanted to hear it. Basically she’d been dancing to everyone’s beat but her own.
She hopped off the bed and picked up the box with the samples that had been delivered midweek. Having already looked them over, she knew she’d chosen well. From tile to paint and everything else, she’d touched, ensured they were perfect.
Screw it, she thought, grabbing her laptop and pulling up the entry form for the contest that was already filled out and saved. She just needed to hit send, pay the fee, and when she was ready, forward her submission.
It was time she stood on her own two feet, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous and scared about taking that step away from her family. She was well aware of how sheltered she’d been and wanted that to change. But, though she knew what she had to do, she wasn’t about to share the news with anyone. If she failed and didn’t final, let alone win, nobody had to know but her.
Drawing a deep breath, she filled in the credit card form and hit the enter button, then forced a calming breath as it processed. Finally the acceptance page appeared on the screen. There. She’d done it.
Step one toward independence.
* * *
Beck walked into the building where his office was located. Normally the sight of the property he owned, this place in particular, gave him immense pleasure. The 1930s hotel-like feel, with its black-steel-framed windows, the brushed brass fixtures, and glamorous décor let him swell with well-earned pride. Coming from a background where money was tight, he’d worked his way here and never let himself forget it.
Today, not even the reminder of success gave him the peace he needed. He sat at his desk, distracted for multiple reasons. His father’s colonoscopy was at nine a.m., and his mother wouldn’t let Beck or his brothers sit with her while she waited. She insisted everything was fine, the procedure was routine, and she’d be home with his dad in no time.
So he had to wait for her phone call, which left him at loose ends and with time on his hands. He couldn’t concentrate on work, and that let him think about his houseguest.
Beck had been living under the same roof as Chloe Kingston for a little over one week. She was an easy houseguest, careful to clean up not just after herself but him, wanting to make herself useful and show her gratitude. She didn’t act like a spoiled princess despite his nickname for her, which had stuck. But as easy as she was to have around, that was as hard as she was to forget.
He was constantly aware of her. Cooking in his kitchen and sharing meals, curled up on the sofa in the family room, reading on an iPad or staring at the screen as if she had a lot on her mind, and sleeping across the hall from him. Her light cinnamon scent lingered everywhere she went, keeping him in a perpetual state of arousal. Especially after that kiss.
The memory of her sweet mouth had kept him hard as a rock and wide awake, knowing he’d turned her away. Ending things before they went further had been the right thing to do. Telling her they’d sleep together eventually hadn’t been. And if he needed proof of why, the development project specs that came in his email from the architect he was working with reminded him.