Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Tell him one minute. We’re just talking.” Cara heard the plea in her voice.
“Baby, move it. It’s time to make lunch,” her father ordered.
Cara looked over at Greg Hartley. Still handsome, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back off his face, and his eyes burned with anger as he looked back and forth between Cara and her mother, who’d already taken a step away from her daughter.
It wasn’t difficult not to say hello to her father.
And he deliberately ignored her. He hated that she’d become a cop. He hated it even more that she refused to acknowledge him as her parent, denying him the respect and control over her he craved.
“Nat, now.” Her mother jumped at the low bellow.
She turned her back on Cara and walked away, head down, as she curled into herself.
Cara hated him. She hated how her mother gave in to whatever he wanted without care to her own needs. If cutting herself off from her parents was the only way to avoid seeing this painful sight, she’d continue to do it. No matter how big a hole her mother’s absence left in her chest or how much the fear for her safety ate away at her. Her mother had made it clear she didn’t want Cara’s help, so there was nothing else she could do.
Except help those who wanted it, Cara thought. Stuffing the pain down where it belonged, Cara finished up her shopping, took the groceries home, and did cleaning around the house.
On Friday, she’d spent more time at the shelter than she’d planned because Daniella was obviously depressed after discovering that she’d need continuing education courses to update her paralegal license. The timing would take a while for her to get up to speed and be capable of rehire. That meant more time at Havensbridge, and the young woman was lonely, talking about alternatives like going home. As in back to her ex. Cara was nervous and spoke at length to Belinda about keeping Daniella busy and talking to prevent her from leaving.
Though Cara could relate to many of the women who came and went from the shelter, Daniella and her sad blue eyes reminded Cara of her mother’s. The run-in was still fresh, causing her to miss her mom even more.
By Saturday afternoon, she’d managed to shake off the depression and allow the excitement about her date with Mike to come through. She spent the morning at Consign and Design in town and bought a new April Mancini original skirt at a very reasonable price. The leopard print was gorgeous, and the short length showed off her legs, which were normally hidden under a uniform or blue jeans; she added her favorite black patent boots, along with a black silk camisole and a cream-colored blazer.
One last look in the mirror, and she was ready to go. Ready to see Mike.
The doorbell rang, and with a last bout of nerves in her stomach, she headed for the door and let him in.
“Hi.” She greeted him with warmth, stepping back to admire the view.
Wearing dark denim jeans and a black button-down shirt and not a speck of razor stubble, he was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. He smelled delicious too.
“Hey.” He didn’t crack a smile as he stepped inside. His expression looked dark and forbidding, and a sudden chill skittered over her skin. One that had nothing to do with the brief blast of cold air from outside.
“Ready?” he asked.
“I just have to get my purse and jacket.”
He shoved his hands into his front pockets and waited without making small talk or looking at her at all.
She swallowed hard. His greeting was nothing like she’d expected. Okay, so he wasn’t admiring the view as she’d done with him. She told herself that was fine, even as disappointment welled inside her.
But his closed expression put her off and unnerved her even more. He looked nothing like the man who’d dropped her off yesterday afternoon with a blistering kiss and a promise to stay the night.
“Umm . . . is everything okay?” she asked as she picked up her small bag from the couch.
“Any reason it wouldn’t be?” he asked in an ice-cold voice.
Her discomfort turned to alarm. “You tell me.”
He glanced at his watch. “We’re going to be late,” he said without answering her question.
“And I don’t give a damn.” Cara wasn’t going anywhere with Mike in this mood. She tossed her bag back onto the sofa. “Talk.”
He turned to face her, his eyes and expression glacial. “I went to see my mother today.”
Uh-oh. “What did she say?”
Disappointment flashed across his handsome face. “Are you really going to play this game? You know exactly what she said. That she’s been in touch with my father on Facebook, and you knew.” He spat the words like an accusation.
Cara’s stomach twisted in tight knots, but she straightened her shoulders, standing by what she had—or hadn’t—done. “It wasn’t my place to tell you.” She’d felt angst about it, felt guilty, but in the end, she could only make one choice, and she remained silent.