Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He’s still holding my arm. “You’re right,” he adds. “I was a jerk. I’m sorry.”
I blanch. “Wait. Did you—just apologize to me?”
“I did and I meant it. I’m sorry.”
I believe him and I want to ask him why he said those things to me, but there are people around us, scurrying about. This isn’t the place. “Thank you for saying that,” I say simply instead. “And I’m sorry, too.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I said things I should not have and all you did was react. I’ll get our bags.”
He releases me and walks toward the conveyor. A pretty, dirty blonde female dressed in business attire points him out to another woman, and they tilt their heads together conspiratorially. They’re talking about Tyler. Of this, I have no doubt. And how can I blame them? What a sight he is—his ass in those jeans is nothing shy of perfect. And the way he carries himself is pure dominance, with a touch of that arrogance of his that can be as irritating as it is sexy. It blasts a message that says I can fuck you until you beg for more. And considering my limited experience with him, I believe that’s true.
Tyler retrieves my bag, and then his. He’s about to return to me when one of the women—a brunette in a short skirt and heels—walks up to him and points at her suitcase, clearly asking for help. She saw him with me, but she’s blatantly hitting on him. There is a distinct pinch in my chest I can only call jealousy, at least if I’m honest with myself and I try to be. Tyler walks around the luggage belt, grabs her bag, and sets it down for her. She starts talking to him, gazing up at him with lusty eyes.
Bitch.
He reaches for his phone, and my stomach knots with the idea that they’re exchanging numbers. That is until I see him glance at the screen, as if he’d received a message, and hope blossoms in me that what I thought was happening is not.
He says something to the woman and then starts walking back to me, his expression focused on what is before him, not behind. He’s already dismissed her. I can read this in him. He stops in front of me and says, “The driver is out front waiting on us. I don’t know about you, but I’m done with airports today.”
I blow off the woman, just as I believe he has. “Probably not as done as you,” I say as we walk toward the door. “I slept. You didn’t.”
“I slept about an hour. It was enough.” He opens the door for me, and I can’t explain it, but there is a shift in the air between us. The tension of before has transformed into something far more old and comfortable and yet somehow, new and unknown. Even when we settle into the back of the SUV, sitting a respectable distance from each other just doesn’t feel as far away as it did on the way to the airport.
It’s nearly nine o’clock, which would seem to be a good time to miss traffic, but this is LA, and we end up with slow-going travel. About halfway to our final destination, the Four Seasons, Tyler’s cellphone rings. He glances at his phone, a tight knot forming in his jaw as he punches in a number. “I just landed in LA. We’re going to have to talk tomorrow, but tell me you have something good to tell me.”
After a short pause, he says, “I think you need to open a dictionary and look up the meaning of good versus crap.” Another pause and he says, “I get it. Time is ticking. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He hangs up and he doesn’t look at me.
I’m an instinctual person, who reads people and situations well. My mother would have told you I inherited it from her. My father would say it’s from him. I say it’s from both. Right now, those instincts are telling me I’ve been drowning in hormones and missing the obvious. That shield Tyler hides behind is mighty, but it doesn’t hide the truth. Tyler is not okay at all.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bella
I draw in a breath, hyperaware of Tyler’s mood on the remainder of the ride to the hotel, expecting more biting words meant to shelter him and drive me away. Almost as if he felt me getting too close, and his instinct was—is, most likely—to push me away. Because one thing I know is that Tyler’s life has not been my life at all. He expects betrayal and challenges from his family, not the love and support I do with mine. He’s been taught those who are closest to you can hurt you most.