Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“She’s just a hateful person,” I mutter.
“She’s changed since Hux died. I’m not making excuses for her,” he says quickly. “I can’t imagine losing my child. It has to be an unbearable pain.”
“I can’t either,” I say, not even letting my brain travel in that direction.
Larkin is literally my entire life. If she weren’t here, I don’t know that I could go on. I had empathy for Nora when I came to town, but it’s so damn difficult to hold on to that when she’s so hateful to me all the time.
“This is so distracting,” he whispers, his finger trailing up my bare leg and teasing the hem of my towel.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” I tell him, swatting at his hand until he pulls it back and places it in his lap. “I came to Lindell because I needed the help, but, more importantly, I came because I wanted someone other than me to be responsible for all his spending. Hux was my husband in name only. It was his solution to a big problem, and since he wasn’t even out of training yet, offering his insurance was the only thing he had.”
“Makes sense.”
“We didn’t know each other well.”
“But you attempted a relationship after you got married?”
I scoff and shake my head.
“Not that I wanted that with him, but Hux was never the type of guy to actually settle down. We didn’t even tell people we were married. There were no rings.”
“Claire, I—” He runs his hand over the top of his head before speaking again. “You had a ring on when you came to town.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“I bought a gold band before coming to town. Although we didn’t know each other well, he told me about his parents and how they forced him to join the military. I figured the truth that he was married would be more palatable if there was a reminder of it on my hand.”
He nods in understanding instead of passing judgment on the lie I told without having to use words.
“Just so you know, Hux was a bum. His joining the military was more an effort at tough love by the Kennedys rather than anything hateful. But it was their own doing because they created that laziness in him by giving him everything he ever wanted.”
“I figured that much,” I whisper, shifting my weight on the bed.
I don’t consider the things Hux told me as lies, but every person has their own viewpoint. It had to have been tough for them to throw him out into the world after babying him all his life.
When I shift again, it pulls his attention right back to my legs. The way his tongue sneaks out and wets his lower lip makes me a little crazy. This man was supposed to be an escape. He was supposed to be a little fun, but I know better than to let my work life and my personal life get tangled, even though I don’t really have a personal life to speak of.
“Really?” I say, but there’s no heat in my tone.
I sort of like that he finds me attractive enough that he can get distracted in the middle of a serious conversation.
“My thoughts can be one of two places, Claire,” he says, lifting his eyes to mine. “On those sexy-as-hell legs of yours or on this credit card issue. You decide. Do you want to orgasm or do you want me to try and fix what’s broken?”
It should be an easy answer. I hate people getting in my business. I should jump up and down and demand the sex, but what if he can really help? What if I’ve been stubborn long enough? Fighting the good fight doesn’t really matter at the end of the day, and I’ve been drowning for much too long already.
“There’s a third option,” I tell him. “You could leave.”
His smile drops away and I hate the absence of it. I know he was trying to be fun and flirty, but I don’t have room for it in my life. Every second of every day is planned out. I have to work, make money, and stay on this hamster wheel even though I know I’ll never make it to the end of the dark tunnel I’ve been traveling in for years. At the same time, I can never give up. If the courts come for me, I need to be able to show them that I’ve tried. I need proof of my efforts if I have any hope of leniency.
“Claire,” he says to my back when I cross the room and grab some clothes out of the closet.
“See you at work on Wednesday.”
He’s still frowning when I step into the bathroom and close the door, making sure the lock is clicked in place like I did earlier.