Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“I’ll see you out here bright and early.”
Is he joking? My hand goes to my hip. “You can’t ask me to stay and then demand I work. That’s illegal, I’m pretty sure.”
“While you’re going through my stuff today, try to find a pair of sweatpants or something that’ll fit you. Kennedy’s shorts won’t cut it out here.”
“Luke, I am not working in the barn.”
He winks and climbs into the truck. “You should find yourself a hat, too.”
“Luke …”
The engine roars to life, and he closes his door.
“I hate you,” I shout, hoping he can hear me through the glass.
He rolls the windows down and smiles. “Now you get the couch, too.”
“Luke!”
But my yelling is pointless because he’s already pulling away, his laughter barely heard over the exhaust.
I’d love to kick the gravel like I see angry people do in movies. It looks so spectacular when they do it. Me? Not so much. Especially without shoes.
And I’m not really angry. I’m not even a little mad. It’s hard to be in a bad mood when Luke is so playful.
I look over my shoulder. Unless he really thinks I’m going to work in that barn. Ick.
Chapter Nine
Luke
“Hey, Troy, it’s Luke. I’m pulling out of the driveway.”
I take a left onto the gravel road in front of my house, my gaze lingering on my house through the trees.
“I see you,” Troy says from his SUV backed into the woods. “Are you expecting anyone to come by today?”
“The only person who might swing by, although I don’t expect him to, is my brother Gavin. Chase, one of my other brothers, is working out of town, and my parents are probably at church. Since Chase is gone, they’ll go to lunch with their friends, I bet.”
“Gavin drove the black truck last night, correct?”
“Yes. Oh. She’s trying to get her stuff here from Stephanie. I don’t know what that will entail.”
“All right,” Troy says. “I’m in communication with Stephanie, so that’ll be fine. I’ll call you if I need anything.”
“Not a problem.”
The line goes dead.
I turn away from the highway and take the back roads to Cotton’s.
I don’t love the idea of leaving Laina at home with Troy lurking in the shadows. As a matter of fact, when he and I came face-to-face this morning by the barn, I almost didn’t love it so much that I nearly punched him.
Although, he’s one hard motherfucker. I’d rather not tangle with him if I don’t have to.
It took him a solid hour to convince me he was part of Laina’s security team. He went as far as to have me call a number I found for her agent where a woman named Anjelica confirmed that Troy was legit. Troy and I worked out a way to keep Laina safe while she’s here—and he agreed that her being at my house was the best spot for her right now.
No one knows she’s here.
Troy is the only reason I’m giving Laina a bit of space today. I know he’s there to protect her.
The farther I get away from home, the more I just want to go back. Something must be wrong with me if Laina is there and I’m choosing to go to work. How many times have I wished for this very scenario? What have I tried to barter with God to get her back? Now I have her, if only for a limited time, and I’m driving away.
“You have to,” I tell myself.
Even if years have passed and Laina isn’t the same girl I fell in love with, I still like her. A lot. My heart still knows her. And I can only imagine that the more time we spend together, the harder it will be when she goes.
Holding her in my arms yesterday is now a core memory. If I let my guard completely down—no.
I can’t let my guard down. I can’t keep her. I know that from experience.
She’s not mine to keep.
Letting her go comes with the territory. And that part sucks.
I cross Peachwood Creek and pull into Cotton’s farm. He waves at me as he climbs out of his truck. I pull up to the stable and turn the engine off.
“I was wondering if you were coming today,” he says, shutting the door.
“Sorry.” I hop out of the truck. “Got a bit of a late start.”
“It’s not a problem. I got a bit of a late start today myself. The wife had me hauling stuff from the basement to the trash. Ain’t a day goes by that she doesn’t have a honey-do list waiting for me in the morning.”
“Could be worse,” I say, getting my things in order.
“Yeah, I reckon it could. I could be like that sorry son of a bitch who got left standing with his tail between his legs.”
My insides twist. “What are you talking about?”