Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
JT’s foot nudged mine under the table. “I’ll help. I told you I would.”
I almost choked on the wine. “You were serious? Why would you do that? Brew Fest is my shot at getting the Ren Faire contract, which means getting a whole bunch of distributors vying for my attention. You’d be helping me get an even better deal than the Fortress contract I turned down.”
JT sat back in the chair as emotions passed across his face unchecked. Surprised. Sad. Offended. Annoyed. Hurt.
Panic surged through my brain, making my stomach twist and my breathing wonky. I reached for my wineglass with fumbling fingers and nearly knocked it over before snatching my hand back awkwardly.
“I would help because you asked, and I… We’re friends, Flynn. Aren’t we?” JT paused and pressed his lips together for a moment like he wasn’t sure he should finish his sentence, then finally blurted, “I care about you, for fuck’s sake.”
Sudden, horrifying tears rushed to my eyes for no reason whatsoever, and I stood abruptly, shoving my chair back with a horrible screeching sound. “Sorry. I can’t… I need to… One second.”
I rushed out of the main part of the restaurant in search of the men’s room. When I found it—empty, thank fuck—I leaned back against the door and took a great, heaving breath of the artificially flowery air, trying to calm myself, but once again, the meditation breathing let me down. Then again, this was a pretty extreme situation. The most extreme.
I wasn’t just “pretty sure” I loved Jonathan Turner Wellbridge III; I was one hundred percent, without a doubt in love with the man… and it was a disaster beyond anything I’d imagined.
I’d known from the moment Frog swaggered into my office with his sexy smile and his stupid, prissy leather folder that if I let this happen—if I let myself fall for him again—I’d be merrily flinging my own heart straight into a woodchipper. And that was plenty bad enough.
But tonight, seeing the sweetness and patience in JT’s eyes, knowing how much trouble he’d gone to just to give me a night of rest and make the guy he was hooking up with happy, I was suddenly afraid this disaster was going to cut both ways and JT might get hurt, too.
What kind of dumbass heard the man he loved say “I care about you” and bolted from the table like a gazelle from a lion? Me. Only me.
And why? Because the man I loved was offering me friendship and kindness and sexual release, just as he had when Grandpa Horace had died… and I couldn’t handle it. I wanted so much more from JT Wellbridge that settling for less was impossible.
The truth was, there could be no comfortable, lukewarm halfways for me when it came to Frog Wellbridge. There never had been. It was either full-on love, or it was hate. Heart eyes or daggers drawn. This summer fling had been me balancing on the pivot point of a seesaw—a state I couldn’t possibly sustain for long—and sure enough, I’d tipped.
So what the hell was I supposed to do now?
I didn’t want to be in love with JT, that was for damn sure. The man was leaving again in a few weeks, and who knew how many years it would be until he came back next time? Unrequited love was the sad, emo shit my sister, Georgia, sang about, and I wanted no part of it.
I still wasn’t sure I could trust him—certainly not with this giant, aching love bruise in the center of my chest that made me extra vulnerable.
And though I really, really wished I could hate him again and go back to blaming every hurt and misunderstanding on his arrogant, scheming Wellbridgeness like I had in the past, I couldn’t manage to get there either.
In short, I was screwed.
“Why? Why did I let this happen again?” I leaned over the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. I was wide-eyed and manic, like only a man in the throes of an anxiety attack could be. “I’m a fucking idiot. Since when have I ever been able to guard my heart from this man? Since never.”
The door opened, letting in a rush of noise from the restaurant along with my date. JT’s face was creased with concern, and I had no idea how I was going to explain my erratic behavior… let alone my hyperventilation.
But it turned out I didn’t have to.
“C’mere,” he murmured, reaching for the front of my button-down shirt and fisting it to haul me close. He wrapped his arms around me in a crushing hug and simply held me without saying a word.
“Sorry,” I managed to choke out. “For—”
“Don’t. It’s my fault for pushing you to talk about stressful things when you didn’t want to.”
That was not the reason I’d been upset. Not remotely. But I let it stand.