Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Beau could not accept that. He was, obviously, well-versed in punishing himself for things he had no control over. Maybe he was punishing me for taking him away from his daughter in the first place.
The guilt I felt was heavy, horrible, and exhausting. Anger was much more productive, but I couldn’t muster the courage to feel it. Not when I’d witnessed Beau be so caring, so gentle. Not when I’d experienced what it was to be cared for by him.
I was falling for him. I hated that I was since he was damaged and hurt. I hated that he didn’t know how to deal with that hurt, resulting in him shutting down and hurting me.
But I couldn’t control my heart. And the only way to cure myself of the plague that was my feelings for Beau was to quit. But there was no way I would leave Clara.
So I stayed. Waited for life to go back to a semblance of normal. Which it did, with only a few reminders that Beau might actually care for me. Crumbs that I feasted on.
The first was one morning when I went out for a run. I’d come to crave the high of them, the burn in my lungs as I inhaled the frosty air, the way I could lose myself in the music I blasted. Beau scowled at me every morning as I shrugged my jacket on, lacing my shoes.
He didn’t like me running, apparently. But that was a him problem.
Except that particular morning when I opened the door, I came straight back into where Beau was preparing Clara’s breakfast.
And mine too. There was always a plate of something nourishing, warm and delicious when I came back from my runs.
“We have to call the police,” I told him, struggling to catch my breath.
He turned, spatula in hand, face no longer expressionless, detached. His eyes ran over my body, cataloguing each part of it as if he were expecting a gunshot wound. When he didn’t find one, his electric gaze found me. “What happened?”
I was suddenly breathless for a whole other reason, but I managed to force myself to focus on the problem at hand. “Someone stole my car.”
Saying it out loud made it even crazier. Beau’s truck was parked right beside it, definitely worth more than my old Corolla. I couldn't fathom why a thief would even bother with it.
The back of my neck prickled with another explanation.
Waylon. He wasn’t content with ruining my credit and taking up all my free time with me trying to get out from under his debt, but he had to take my car too.
Anger seized my muscles both in anger and terror at the mere prospect that he might know where I was, that he’d been skulking around in the driveway sometime in the night. Then I panicked, thinking I’d have to tell the police officer about Waylon, that he was a suspect. Beau would be present for that conversation because he was Beau, strong-willed, and alpha. Though I supposed I could assert my independence and demand to speak to the police alone.
Even then, Jupiter was too small to think that my secret could be kept under wraps for long.
Apparently, Beau was unaware of my internal panic attack. All of his previous alpha bad ass energy had disappeared, his expression calming.
“No one stole your car. It’ll be back this afternoon. You need to go anywhere, you can use my truck.”
He turned his back as if that were the end of the conversation. It most certainly was not.
“Where is my car?” I demanded, still panting.
He paused, sighed audibly, then turned around.
His gaze was measured then. Even. A slight furrow to his brows was all that hinted of any irritation. “It’s getting four new tires.”
I stared at him for a beat, processing that it was getting four new tires because Beau had decided I needed them. That was well and truly overstepping boundaries he’d so surely slammed back in place. “The tires were fine,” I shot back.
His brows narrowed further, no longer displaying just a hint of irritation. “Not with the weather getting worse. They’re pretty good at keeping the streets cleared here, but there’s still ice and snow on occasion. You needed the new tires.”
“I did not,” I argued, putting my hands on my hips.
Beau’s gaze hardened. “You did.”
I pursed my lips, happy that some cleansing anger was washing through me. Until panic hit again. I could not afford four new tires. My car was always up to date and taken care of, especially now that I drove Clara. But the only way to afford four tires was to dip into my school and my lawyer funds.
Not even considering possibly having to pay the credit card bills in my name.
Which meant I’d be even more behind on tuition or my divorce.