Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
“Fat.”
He laughs under his breath and necks his caffeine in one hit. “The only thing big about you, Rose, is your willful streak.”
If he’s about to lecture me for causing Danny unnecessary grief, I’m not game. I lecture myself enough without anyone else’s help. “Are you tired of fighting?”
He looks at his empty cup as he places it down, then peeks up at me. “You?”
I breathe out, exasperated. “How does this keep spinning back onto me?” I think I’d rather him pick my brain about Beau. I lean forward. “With respect, when it comes to relationship issues, you and Beau are definitely out in front.” And I wonder . . . does he know her period started? Will he be relieved? Disappointed?
James looks back down at his cup, and something tells me he’s considering getting more caffeine. Or perhaps some vodka. “What do I do, Rose?” he asks quietly, spinning his cup. My heart splits straight down the middle, and suddenly my own problems don’t feel so heavy anymore. Danny must know I am not going anywhere. Maybe to St. Lucia, but I’m never leaving him. He’s confident of that, I’m sure of it. James, though? He doesn’t look like he’s confident of much right now. “A few days ago, she was practically begging me to try for a baby,” he murmurs. “Today, she doesn’t even see me.”
“Her father just died.”
He winces, his jaw tightening. “She didn’t even like him.”
“None of us liked him.” I reach for his hand and pull it toward me, resting my elbows on the counter to lean in. “But he was her dad, James, and no matter what we think, she’s going to feel guilty. Maybe like she should have made amends before he died.”
He sighs, long and heavy. “I know that.”
“She’s going to wish she’d met him last night.”
James withdraws, eyes wide. “What?”
“Before we left for Hiatus. Tom called her, said that he was at some hotel downtown for a meeting. He wanted Beau to join him for dinner.”
James looks away, his expression between a scowl and a frown.
“If she’d have gone, this might not have happened,” I say. “That’s what she’ll be thinking.”
He turns his eyes onto me. I see the darkness there, the demons he fights back every day. “He didn’t deserve her.”
“She didn’t deserve to see you with another woman all over you either,” I say, my lips pursed. “Are you going to tell me what the hell was with that?”
“She’s from my past.” James breaks our connected hand, pulling away, looking defensive. “I’m sure Beau’s told you all about how we met.”
“Of course she has.” Both Danny and James know there’s not much, if anything, that Beau and I don’t know about each other. “But what the heck was she doing at Hiatus? Has this got something to do with her ex?” I ask. If Beau won’t admit it, at least James will confirm it.
Exasperated, which is a cheek, James stands, exhaling loudly. “Otto got into Beth’s phone records. She’s in contact with Burrows.”
My mouth falls open, even though I suspected.
James laughs with zero humor. “Looks like he will do anything to turn her against me.”
“I thought he’d given up.”
“I’d hoped,” he says. “Because I seriously don’t want to kill him.”
Oh Jesus, what a mess. “You’re not telling Beau?”
“Don’t know if you noticed, but she’s not talking to me right now, Rose,” he says, swilling his mug under the faucet and resting it on the side.
I narrow my eyes on him as he faces me. “Have you told Danny?” I ask.
“Yes, because he’s talking to me.”
“Don’t try me, James. One murdering asshole is enough for any woman to deal with.”
He comes to me and dips, kissing my cheek. “Thank you for getting Beau out yesterday.”
“For what it was worth.”
“Make friends with him.”
“Or else?”
“Don’t try me,” he grunts, walking away. “One disobedient female is enough for any man to deal with.”
“Where are you going?” I call after him.
“Not to the gym.”
“Thank God,” I murmur, lowering back to the stool. And for another hour, I sit, mentally planning the conversation I need to have with Danny and how to approach it. I still haven’t figured that out by seven o’clock when he walks into the kitchen, his hair wet, his tall, hard body wrapped up in a gray suit. My heart sinks.
Business.
Didn’t he deal with enough business last night?
He passes me, silent, and slips a cup under the spout of the coffee machine, keeping his back to me while it pours—or drips—his hands braced on the edge of the countertop, his fingers drumming. Then, when it eventually finishes dispensing his coffee, he takes the small handle on the cup and turns, resting his ass against the marble and looking down into his drink while he sips, as slowly as the damn thing dripped out of the machine.