Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“Spencer—”
He’d had more than enough and leaned forward to turn on the radio, flooding the car with loud rock music. She was still trying to talk and he cranked the volume, ignoring her and whatever trite apology she felt the need to throw at him this time.
When would he learn his lesson where Daffodil McGregor was concerned? He was like a dog that kept going back to someone who beat it constantly. It was humiliating. It was past time to grow some balls where this woman was concerned.
The rest of the ride was punctuated by loud, angry music, and when he slid to a stop outside her house, he was still so pissed off he didn’t bother to get out and open the passenger door for her. He could tell from the way she sat and watched him for a few moments that she was expecting him to, and when he didn’t she sighed and opened the door.
Before exiting the car, she reached forward and pushed the mute button on the radio. The immediate silence thundered between them, but he still refused to acknowledge her, maintaining a death grip on his steering wheel as he glowered grimly ahead.
“I’m really sorry, Spencer. I had a pretty great time tonight.”
He wasn’t going to soften, no matter how sweet her damned voice. He’d fallen for that bullshit before—it was the way she operated. Pretend to let him in before shutting him down so hard his head reeled. He’d experienced a few concussions during his rugby days, but none of them had ever left him as dazed and confused as Daff did.
“I’ll see you at lunchtime tomorrow?” His hands tightened on the wheel, and he ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
“No.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Good night.” She left without a further word, and much as he wanted to just speed the hell out of there, he still felt compelled to make sure she got into the house safely. Once the door was shut and the lights were on, he took off like a bat out of hell. Promising himself that he would never allow her to fool him again.
CHAPTER SIX
Daff tossed and turned all night. The way things had ended between her and Spencer weighed heavily on her mind, and she felt awful about it. No matter how much he blustered to the contrary, she knew she had hurt him, and it bothered her. He was a decent man and she was smearing all her crazy and her wrong off onto him. But she couldn’t leave it the way it was. She just couldn’t.
She picked up her phone and checked the screen for the umpteenth time since she’d sent her message just after arriving home from dinner. Her apology remained unread, and that stung a bit. Not that she deserved anything better, it was just . . . she didn’t want to ruin whatever it was that seemed to be building between them. She was beginning to discover that liking Spencer was a good habit to have and a hard one to break.
She tossed and turned some more, checked her phone again, and at around 2:00 a.m. knew that she wasn’t going to get any sleep. She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. She could go around to his store in the morning, take him and his staff some doughnuts, even if it wasn’t their usual doughnut day. Or maybe she could take him lunch for a change.
She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on top of them. She stared off into the darkness pensively, wondering how to fix this.
He hadn’t even bothered to open the car door for her this evening, and that had bugged her so much. Not the fact that he hadn’t done it, more the idea that she’d taken a decent guy and angered and corrupted him to such an extent that he’d willingly forgone his hard-earned impeccable manners. And knowing Spencer, she figured he must have fought his chivalrous instincts very hard to make that point. She hadn’t missed that death grip on the steering wheel.
She groaned and got out of bed, dragging on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a thick cable-knit sweater. She put her hair up in a sloppy ponytail, shoved her feet into comfy fur-lined boots, and grabbed her keys on the way to the front door. She had to make this right tonight.
Somehow.
The house was dark and quiet. A modest two-floor white building with gingerbread trim and a peaked roof. It looked almost too feminine for a man like Spencer, but rumor had it Mason had designed it to Spencer’s exact specifications. This beautiful family home with the white picket fence and the huge front and back yards was the home of a man who longed for a settled life with a wife and kids. The home of a man who didn’t have room in his life for a woman like Daff. But here she was anyway, knocking, at nearly two thirty in the morning. And when that didn’t get a response, she leaned on the doorbell.