Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
She turned to look at me. “Oh, no. They know about each other. They’re good with that.”
“Oh, really.” My skepticism must have shown in my voice because her grin widened.
“No, they are,” she insisted. “What, you don’t think Lee would be cool with you dating someone else?”
I knew the answer to that. I had a bruise on my hip from him fucking me against my dining room table, his voice raspy with jealousy and anger as he claimed me as his. “No,” I said slowly. “I don’t think he would be.”
“Well, you might be surprised.” She stood and stretched. “We’re going down to the boardwalk to get some food. You guys want to come?”
“It’s up to him.” I nodded to Lee, who had never shied away from a meal. “I’m sure he’d be interested.” I extended my hand to her. “I’m Layana.”
“Madison.” She shook it, then helped to pull me to my feet. “You guys should come to the tournament this weekend.”
The chance of Lee staying for the weekend was slim, but her smile and friendliness were infectious. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll do that.”
We didn’t. We spent four hours with them, drinking and talking and shooting darts in a dive bar on the boardwalk. Then Lee got too drunk and I drove him home and he kissed me in the darkness of my bedroom and held me like he loved me.
And then, in the morning, he was gone. Four days later, I stood in line at a coffee shop and watched a local television broadcast, showing Paul standing on the beach, a big trophy in his hand, and I thought about what she said.
Maybe some men were okay with sharing a woman but Brant would not be. And Lee was not.
This… all of this… could only end in disaster.
Chapter 55
"What's going on?"
I looked up from my place on my living room floor, mid-wrap of a picture frame. Lee stood in the front doorway, hands out in confusion. He looked around the empty space, half the furniture removed last week and sent out for consignment. I held up my finger in a “wait one moment” gesture and leaned back, calling out to the back of the house. "Frank?"
A moment later, the lead mover stuck his head through the doorway. "Yes ma'am?"
"Can you round up the guys and take them to lunch? I need some privacy."
"Sure." He nodded a hello to Lee and left.
I hopped up, setting down the frame and brushed off myself. "Hey babe."
"What's going on?" he repeated.
"I'm moving. I tried to call you. Been trying to call you. You should get voicemail or read your texts.
He looked around like he didn't understand the concept, taking a few steps into the kitchen before returning. "Almost everything's gone. When are you leaving?"
"Friday."
"So, where's your new place?"
"Not far." I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his body, my body flush with his, his reaction immediate.
He looked down and pressed a kiss on my mouth as he grabbed a handful of my ass and squeezed it tightly. "Show it to me."
"Now?"
He shrugged. "Sure. You look like you could use a break."
I looked around. Everything was half-packed, but that was what I had Frank and his team for. "Okay. Let me grab my keys."
We took the Defender, Lee's hands familiar on the wheel. I was tempted to give him the vehicle, his love of it apparent every time he sat behind the wheel. Maybe later. Now it would only cause a fight and too many questions from Brant, too much rocking of the boat. Now, he pulled around his old Jeep, which he’d been reunited with upon his return.
The drive was a quiet one, the silence interrupted only when I’d point out turns, or give directions. I snuck glances at Lee as we drove down the expensive streets, a world away from his part of town. His eyes moved constantly, notating the details, his expression broody.
I knew this Lee. This was the insecure Lee, the one who grew hostile and irritable at my life of luxury. The one who hated Brant with a fervor that scared me.
Maybe today was the wrong day to show him Windere.
"I'm starving." I reached over and looped my hand through his. "Want to grab lunch first?"
"I'm not hungry." He pulled his hand free and down shifted. "Doesn't your new place have food?"
I looked out the window and swallowed my response. This was going to be a disaster.
I saw the hesitation in Lee as soon as I pointed toward the new house's entrance. He brought the Defender to a slow stop at the gates, and one of our new guards—Roy—stepped from the small hut, saw the two of us and waved. The twin concrete and iron gates began their slow parting, unveiling the beauty that was Windere.
His press on the gas pedal was delayed, his crawl down the driveway slow, the crunch of dead leaves audible in the absence of wind. When he rolled to a stop before the six-car garage, he jerked the SUV into park, turned off the key, and just sat there, the engine dead, his hands on the wheel.