Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
It’s frustrating. And annoying.
I’m not even thinking about the fact that I have to be in the diner for the breakfast shift in six hours.
Sigh.
I hear the low roar of a car driving past my house.
River.
I clamber up off the sofa, and for the second time this evening, I’m looking out the window for him.
I see his truck pulling into his driveway and him climbing out and heading inside his house.
Well, he’s alive at least.
Although he might not be when I’m finished with him.
Usually, I never question River on anything to do with his life because I don’t want him prying into my life, but for some reason tonight, I’m sick of the secrets.
I want to know what happened in the store tonight.
I want to know why he dumped me off here and drove off like his ass was on fire.
I want to know where he’s been for all these hours.
And I want to know these things because I care about him.
I’m pulling my cardigan on over my pajama top and sliding my feet into my sneakers before I can change my mind about going over there.
“Back soon,” I tell Buddy when he lifts his head from the sofa to see where I’m going.
I let myself out of my front door and walk the short distance over to River’s house.
I don’t even bother to knock. I just walk straight in. I’m that fired up.
He’s not in the living room. I see the light on in the kitchen, so I head in there.
I see him standing at the sink, his back to me.
“You forget how to knock, Red?”
He heard me come in. Well, I wasn’t exactly being quiet.
“Oh, give me a break,” I fire back, in no mood to spar with him right now. “You never knock at my house anymore. You just walk straight in if the door’s unlocked. And, if you don’t want me coming in your house, then lock the fudging door.”
He glances back at me over his shoulder.
The look on his face jolts me. His eyes look … darkly primitive. Almost sexual. His face looks flushed. His skin is glowing, like he’s just done some physical exertion. And his hair is disheveled, like he’s been repeatedly running his hands through it.
Or maybe someone else has.
I add up all the aspects of his appearance and don’t like the outcome that I come up with.
Has he been with a woman?
My chest pinches painfully.
I swallow down.
“Where have you been?” My quiet voice sounds loud in the silence of his kitchen.
He turns his face back to the sink and turns the faucet off. He reaches for a towel and dries his hands.
Then, he turns to face me.
I immediately spot the blood, and all thoughts of him and another woman vanish.
“Oh my God!” I exclaim, moving toward him. “Are you hurt? What happened?”
He frowns. Then, he glances down at his white T-shirt. At the marks of blood on it.
His eyes lift back to mine, and I don’t like what I see in them.
All those things I just added up, I got wrong. Very wrong.
Add in the blood, and you’ve got a whole different scenario.
A violent scenario.
Sense and experience have me moving back a step.
His frown deepens at that.
“Nothing happened. I’m fine.” He reaches back and pulls the T-shirt over his head. He bundles it up into a ball and throws it in the trash can.
He moves toward me. Instinctively, I step aside, giving him a wide berth.
“Don’t do that,” he says low, stopping before me.
“Do what?” My voice is a whisper.
“Act like you’re afraid of me.”
“Maybe I am right now.”
Dark eyes burn into mine. “You know I’d never hurt you.”
“Do I?”
His lips tighten, forming lines around his mouth. “I thought you did. Clearly, I was wrong.”
“What am I supposed to think? You acted weird at the store. Dropped me home and then disappeared off in your truck without a word. Then, showed back up after midnight, washing what I can only assume was blood off your hands, getting that from the fact that it was all over your shirt.”
“You should think that, in all the time you’ve known me, I’ve never once hurt you.”
“Only my feelings, right, River? Not physically, so that makes it okay.”
He sighs. “You know I was sorry for that.”
“Yeah, I know. And I know that your actions stemmed from what’d happened in your past. But I don’t know everything about your past. So, therefore, I don’t know what else you’re capable of.”
I would never have thought this of him before now. But, after this, I’m thinking it.
“That’s low, Red.”
I lift my chin. “No. It’s the truth. You want me to trust that you would never physically hurt me? Then, tell me where you went tonight. Where did the blood come from? Or who did it come from?”
His eyes darken to black, brows lowering. “Why did you move here, Carrie? Who’s the father of your baby?”