Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“I like it.” He loved this damned car but it wasn’t the most practical of vehicles.
“Why don’t you use it more often?”
“It’s not exactly inconspicuous, is it? Imagine me driving it to the mall for Aunty Naz’s groceries?”
She laughed at the incongruous mental image.
He started the car and it purred into life like a contented kitten.
“Ooh, sexy,” Beth crooned, sounding a whole fuckton sexier than the car.
She was silent for a while, stroking finishes and leaning forward to touch the dashboard. Gideon allowed her to inspect the car at her leisure. He was grateful for her distraction, happy to concentrate on negotiating the heavy Friday afternoon traffic in the meantime.
The next time she spoke was after he’d managed to maneuver them out of the congested Main Road traffic and onto the N1.
“Your motorcycle…Cat mentioned that it’s quite pricey. She was curious about how you paid for that, considering your situation.”
The comment surprised him and he slanted her a quick glance, trying to gauge her mood.
“Does she think I dipped into my inheritance to buy it?”
“She wondered if that might have been a possibility.”
Cat knew how he’d gotten the bike. What was she up to?
“And what do you think?” That’s all that really mattered to him right now.
“Me?” She seemed surprised by the question. “I think that if you bought yourself a motorcycle, then good for you. Your mother would probably be happy to know you’re using the money she left you. Your grandparents too.”
“Even after my big talk about earning my own way?”
“I don’t know why you’re punishing yourself. You’ve decided that going your own way, following your own dreams, and setting your own goals, means that you’re not entitled to any part of your family’s legacy. I don’t see why you can’t have both.”
“I’d feel like a hypocrite.”
“But why? Did your sister deprive herself of her inheritance while she was studying? Does it somehow make her a lesser doctor because she was comfortable and not wanting for anything while she was at med school? I’m sure your brothers used their money as well, right? While they were at college? Studying to be an accountant and a lawyer?”
“It’s likely.” She was so passionate in her argument on his behalf and Gideon had to admit, she made points he’d never once considered himself.
In his mind it had been an all-or-nothing scenario. And that money had felt like a millstone around his neck. One that would always be tied to him, weighing him down.
Beth referring to it as a gift from his mother and grandparents had made him re-evaluate his thoughts about his inheritance. He could do so much with it. Not just for himself but for others. It was more money than he would ever need in his lifetime, but it was a legacy for his future children, and it was a means to help others in need.
He remained silent on the issue for now, but reached over and gave Beth’s hand a squeeze.
“The bike was a gift as well. A sixteenth birthday present from my father. He hated the very thought of it, but he knew how much I wanted one.” It was one of his most treasured possessions. Proof that—despite recent evidence to the contrary—his father loved him and had once tried his damnedest to make Gideon happy, even when it went against his most fundamental protective instinct as a parent.
“That’s really sweet,” Beth said, and Gideon nodded.
He didn’t want to speak about these things anymore and put on some music to discourage any further conversation. He’d created a playlist of musicians he knew she enjoyed and soon she was contentedly humming along with one of the songs, while staring at the passing scenery.
“Maybe I could drive back,” she said after nearly ten minutes of no conversation. The comment startled a laugh out of him.
“Not likely, Scrappy.”
“I promise I’ll be careful. I’m a very good driver,” she said in that cheerful, unwaveringly confident way of hers. It was hard to remember why he’d found that confidence irritating as fuck before because, right now, he found her endearing in her optimistic conceit.
“You’re not driving my car, Beth. You—” His words stumbled to a halt when he slanted her a look. “What the fuck are you doing right now?”
He refocused on the road, but snuck another quick look at her to see if she was still doing the weird thing that had derailed him from his train of thought.
“Feminine wilesing you,” she replied. “Is it working?”
As far as he could tell, she was being perfectly serious.
“I thought maybe a lash had dropped into your eye.” Another glance. She was still doing it. “Stop that, babe. You’re likely to start a hurricane somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean if you continue that frantic flapping.”
“So you’re saying that it’s not working?” He risked another looked at her. The pout he’d heard in her voice was on her lips as well, but thankfully she had stopped the rapid blinking.