Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“No promises.” She presses her lips to the rim of her mug and sips her coffee. I’ve never wanted to be a mug so badly in my life.
“We had the will reading yesterday, as you know.” Her eyes narrow as she sips more coffee. “My asshole of a father left my sisters each ten thousand dollars.”
“What?”
“And the rest of everything else to me. With some conditions.”
“What conditions?” She’s openly scowling now, listening.
“Well, one condition, really. I have to get married.”
“Man, sucks to be you. Wait, he can do that?”
“And I have to stay married for one year.”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me all of this.” She shakes her head. “I don’t really have any single friends to hook you up with.”
“Millie.” She frowns at me, and I want to kiss the fuck out of her. “Let me finish.”
“Okay.”
“I have to stay married for a year, at which time everything fully transfers to me, and I can finally make things right for my sisters. I can divvy up the money, give them land, all of that stuff. But I can’t do any of it until after the year is up.”
“Ooooookay,” she says, drawing out the word. “I mean, that’s pretty harsh. All of it. I’m sorry for your sisters. I actually like them. But I don’t see—”
Her eyes widen.
The blood drains out of her gorgeous face.
I have to rush around to grab the mug before it goes crashing to the floor.
“No.” Jesus, she sounds horrified. Not great for my ego, but also not a surprise.
“Listen—”
“Have you lost your mind?” She’s shaking her head, pacing away from me in that thin robe. Is she naked under there?
Jesus, my heart can’t take this.
“Under no circumstances did you just show up here to ask me if I’d help you out with your inheritance by marrying you.”
“I know it’s not exactly a romantic proposal.”
“Oh, my God!” She flings her arms out, and the belt of her robe comes a little untied, and yep.
She’s fucking naked.
She hurries to cover herself and glares at me. If she could shoot fishing knives out of her eyes, I’d be a dead man right now.
“You fucking crushed me, Holden Lexington. You destroyed me, completely shredded me. You were mean and cruel, and I’ve hated you for years. And now, you want me to help you by marrying you?”
I prop my hands on my hips and lower my head, looking at the floor, feeling each of those words like a jab to the heart.
I know it. I know I did those things to her, but for fuck’s sake, it was to protect her. To protect Charlie. I didn’t have a goddamn choice in the matter, and she wasn’t the only one that was destroyed because of it. Not that I could tell her that.
“There is no one else in this world that I would even consider marrying,” I admit softly before lifting my gaze back up to hers. “There is no one else, Millie.”
Her jaw drops. Her gorgeous eyes are round, and that pulse in her throat is beating the tempo of “Mambo Number Five.”
“And if it wasn’t for my sisters, I would never ask you.”
“This isn’t fair,” she whispers, her voice cracking as a tear slips onto her cheek. Christ, I don’t want her to cry. Rail at me, hit me, but don’t cry. “To put this on me. It isn’t fair.”
“I know.” I shake my head, wanting nothing more than to pull her to me and hold her, to tell her how sorry I am, and explain everything that happened all those years ago, but I know that my touch wouldn’t be welcome right now, and I don’t know that she would believe the story anyway. “It’s not fair, not even a little bit, but it’s the only chance I have to take care of them. Please don’t say no right now. Don’t give me an answer right away. Think on it, Mill.”
I hold my hands out, and her eyes cut over to my arm. I’m in a T-shirt today, and the sleeve has moved up on my biceps.
Higher than she’s seen in, well, years.
On purpose.
Her gaze sweeps up the grayscale tattoos on my arm until they freeze on the pink flower high on my biceps.
My stomach drops.
Her eyes narrow.
The flowers are the only thing in color, standing out from the rest of the grayscale tattoos on the sleeve.
“Holden.” The tears have dried up, but her voice shakes, and I know this isn’t going to be good.
I swallow hard. “Yeah.”
“Is that—” She breaks off, and when tears fill her eyes again, she blinks and swallows. “Is that a—”
“Wild rose? Yeah. It is.”
“Get out of my house.” Her face is mutinous, angrier than I’ve ever seen her. This was not the reaction I was expecting.
There’s a knock at the door before I can say anything else, and Millie rushes over and yells, “Hold on! Be right there!”