Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Colt’s brown gaze pins me in place, and I can’t breathe the moment he looks at me. What is it about him that makes me want to cross this kitchen and throw myself into his arms? I want to let him hold me until all of my demons retreat. I want to kiss him until all of his are just a distant memory.
Finally, he looks away from me. He stares unseeingly at a spot above my head and murmurs something about a shower. Then he’s gone, leaving me standing in front of the stove and wondering why I annoy him so much.
He returns seven minutes later, just as I’m sliding our meal on the table. He didn’t have a lot in the way of food. It was obvious from a quick inspection of his fridge and pantry that he mainly eats meat and vegetables. Still, I managed to make hamburgers, using my dad’s recipe.
Colt takes a seat the kitchen table and ducks his head. He digs in without saying a word to me.
I sit across from him and try not to stare. Before he was dressed in a t-shirt with a long-sleeved plaid button down layered over it. Now he’s in a white muscle shirt that shows off his toned arms and some pink scars on his bicep. It’s melted skin from burns, and they extend onto his shoulder and back before being covered by the thin cotton material.
For a moment, I picture him at the funeral. I’m trying to remember if he had the scars or if he got them from a mission afterwards. But he was in a black suitcoat, his expression stoic as he grieved the loss of his best friend.
I take a bite of my burger. It’s hard to eat when my stomach is so upset. That was the one thing about Albert restricting my food intake. I wouldn’t have been able to eat even if he’d let me have more than carrots.
Please don’t send me back. Sitting here, I realize how stupid I’ve been. I risked every cent I had on the hope that this man who can barely stand me would be willing to help me.
Colt eats his food quickly and pushes his plate away. I’m still pretending to eat at my burger and picking at it.
Finally, he says, “I’ll show you around Courage tomorrow.”
Colt
“What?” Sierra looks up from her plate, blinking those pretty green eyes. She’s not eating and that troubles me. She’s got generous curves, fuckin’ beautiful ones and she needs to be eating to nourish them.
“For your project,” I tell her. “The one about the tourism. The website is fake, but the details have to be accurate, correct?”
Guilt and fear mingle in her gaze before she tries to hide it. She’s an open book to me and I want to read all of her pages. I want to know all of her secrets and what she’s holding back. Then I want to take her to my bed and make love to her over and over again until she’s just a sweaty, trembling mess.
She nods and adds more mustard to her burger. It was her father’s recipe. I knew it as soon as I tasted it. “That would be nice.”
When she’s done with the pretense of eating, I gather the blankets from my bed. I don’t have extra and if one of us will be cold tonight, it’ll be me. It’s not as if I haven’t passed more than one night miserably cold.
She opens her bedroom door when I knock, and I shove the blankets at her like the silent caveman I am.
Her face lights up and her eyes crinkle at the corners. She’s so soft and delicate. I want to touch her all over, to have the comfort of not being alone tonight. But I don’t deserve that and even if I did, I wouldn’t drag a sweet girl like Sierra into my personal hell. “Thank you.”
I grunt and retreat to my bedroom. I don’t know how I’m going to endure spending the entire day with her tomorrow. But I need time to figure out what’s going on. I hate the idea that she’s afraid, always looking over her shoulder like she’s about to jump out of her skin at any moment.
After a sleepless night where the nightmares are worse than usual, I wake up while it’s still dark outside. It doesn’t take me long to make it through the farm chores then I’m texting Storm Scott. He’s a friend. We knew each other in high school. Or we did until a horrible accident caused him to drop out. After that, he hid away on his foster parents’ ranch and was rarely seen.
The sun has finally come up by the time I reach the Scott Ranch. They’ve been quite the talk of the town this year. Apparently, Old Man Scott died and left a condition that his heirs must marry if they want their portion of the land. He even signed them up with a mail order bride service.