Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
I couldn’t believe the adorable little boy with that wide open smile and heart in his eyes was Walker Ironside.
The girl looked so much like him, she had to be his older sister.
These pictures … I flipped through them again frantically … these pictures were of a family he never spoke about. Why? Why had he treated his mother like a complete stranger in Edinburgh?
I placed the photos on the kitchen island, and my stomach twisted with nerves as I waited for Walker to arrive home. At the sound of the front door opening, of his casual, “Baby, it’s me,” sweat gathered on my palms and under my arms.
When Walker strode into the kitchen, the sight of him made me want to hide the photos, to pretend I’d never seen them, to bury my head in the sand and just take of this man what I could.
The problem, however, was that I was in love with him.
I was completely, totally, head over heels in love with Walker Ironside, and I was greedy because I wanted all of him.
And it turned out, I was an all-or-nothing kind of woman.
His soft expression flattened at whatever he saw on mine. He rested the bag of takeout on the island, his gaze searching before it flicked down to the photos on the counter.
Walker’s expression blanked.
Queasy, I blurted, “I’m sorry. I was looking for cutlery … no. I was being nosy. And I found these photographs.”
He said nothing. He stood there, frozen like a statue, eyes blank on the Polaroids.
“Walker? Is this your family? Was that woman we bumped into in Edinburgh your mom?”
Suddenly, his features hardened and the look he gave me, like I was an intruder trespassing in his home, made me die a little inside. “It’s none of your fucking business.”
I flinched like he’d slapped me, but it was as if he didn’t see. Couldn’t see how much his words cut me.
He rested his hands on the counter, bending his head toward me. “Do I snoop around in your fucking house? Christ, Sloane, I thought you were better than that.”
I would not cry. I would not let him make me cry.
Biting back the burn of tears, I lowered my gaze and stepped away. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone looking. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” Walker replied abruptly and strode around the island to grasp the photos in hand, yanked open the drawer I’d found them in, threw them inside, and slammed the drawer shut. “They were out of spring rolls, so I got you garlic broccoli.” He moved to open the takeout bag.
I stared at him, stunned, as he removed takeout cartons.
He flicked me a look. “You don’t like garlic broccoli?”
Was he kidding?
I let out a huff of disbelief and, hearing the anger in it, he stopped what he was doing. “What?”
That sharp impatience was like a hook, yanking my spine straight, forcing my shoulders back. “I want to know why you won’t talk about your family. I want to know why you ignored your mom. Why you disappear at the same time every year, why you won’t talk about the scar on your belly when you’ll talk about all the others.” I rounded the island to press my hands to his chest. “I want to know you, and you won’t let me.”
“Bullshit,” Walker replied harshly. “You know me better than most.”
“Than most?” I smoothed my hand over his heart. “You know everything about me. I’ve let you in to every part … why won’t you let me in?”
He curled his hand around my wrist. “I have. But there are some things I don’t want to talk about. This”—he trapped my hand between his palm and his chest—“is what I can give you. That’s either enough or it isn’t.”
I yanked on my hand, and Walker’s eyes blazed as he reluctantly let me go. “So you’re telling me that there are important things about your past you’re never going to tell me?”
“They’re not things you need to know. They don’t affect us.”
Was he serious? Was he really that clueless? “If we stay the course, I’m just supposed to shut up when you disappear every September for two weeks?”
He seemed surprised I’d been paying such close attention. “It’s not about us so, aye.”
Hurt clawed at my throat. “Are you kidding?”
“Sloane—”
“Are you telling me that if I just up and disappeared with Callie for two weeks every year and didn’t tell you a damn thing about it, you’d be cool with that?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and I knew I had him. Yet still the stubborn bastard said, “If it was important to you to keep it to yourself, then aye.”
“You’re a liar,” I spat angrily, retreating from him.
Walker’s eyes flashed in warning. “Sloane.”
“No, don’t use that tone like I’m a misbehaving child.” My whole body shook as an awful decision weighed on me. “This is serious, Walker. I … How can this go anywhere if you don’t trust me?”