Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“I love you both very much, but you know that you and Gideon would be catastrophic together. Once the chemistry burned itself out, you’d be left trying to figure out how to move on without creating an even bigger disaster than the one you started with.”
Cat’s words made sense. It was nothing Beth hadn’t told herself before, so she wasn’t at all certain why she felt a hollow sense of disappointment at having her worst fears confirmed.
Not that it mattered. The thing between her and Gideon was dead and buried.
Gideon grinned and folded his arms over his chest as he watched Beth dancing with a rake in her back yard. She hadn’t heard him calling her over the sounds of Nina Simone’s My Baby Just Cares For Me playing from a Bluetooth speaker on the wrought iron table on her patio. And he’d had no option but to follow the sounds of the music through the side gate and into her yard.
She looked like one of those old Hollywood musical stars as she put the broom through its paces. She was even dressed the part in baby blue capris and a plain white blouse knotted at the waist. On her feet she wore stained white tennis shoes with frilly ankle socks and her hair was held back with a blue polka dot kerchief.
There was a narrow strip of bare skin visible between the waist of her capris and the hem of her blouse and Gideon took an embarrassingly long time to tear his eyes from that sliver of silky skin. The shirt occasionally rode up to give him a peek of the shallow indent of her belly button.
Gideon continued to watch her, torn between wanting to join her and enjoying the show.
He hadn’t seen her since lunch at Cat and Cam’s a week ago. Well, he had seen her—he hadn’t quite overcome his voyeuristic tendencies yet—but he hadn’t spoken with her. She had sent him one text to warn him that Cat had guessed their secret. The warning had come too late, since Cat had FaceTimed him that very evening. She’d been like a mama bear protecting her cub, and had only seem satisfied once she’d received Gideon’s repeated assurances that he and Beth had no intention of pursuing a sexual relationship.
She’d been insultingly relieved about it and Gideon had fought hard not to be offended by that. He understood that she was looking out for her friend and he didn’t have the best track record when it came to Beth.
He watched Beth now—so lovely—as she joyfully danced to the classic flirty tune, occasionally singing along. She wasn’t getting much raking done, and God knew it was a task that needed doing. The massive oak tree in her backyard had shed nearly all its leaves thanks to the southeaster that had blustered through the Cape this past week. Her small, quaint backyard was carpeted in orange brown leaves. They crunched underfoot as she danced and sang her way around the tree.
“Baaaayaaaybeeeee…Oh God, Gideon!”
Oops, looked like the show was over. She stood clutching the rake in her right hand while the palm of left hand—which still sported the brace—pressed against her chest in fright.
“You scared the bejesus out of me. Why are you lurking around my backyard?”
“Hardly lurking, Lizzy,” he corrected her. “I called out. Several times. Then I heard the music back here and came looking. Didn’t expect a free show, though.”
Her rosy blush was sweet in its predictability. She dragged her phone out from the back pocket of her capris and paused the music.
“What do you want?” she asked, still fighting to catch her breath.
“Should you be doing that with your injured wrist?” he asked, ignoring her question.
Her gaze dropped to her sprained wrist, still encased in the neoprene brace.
“I’m not putting any strain on it. My right hand is doing most of the work. Besides, it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore. I’m wearing the brace because that’s what the doctor advised.”
“With good reason, Beth. He doesn’t want you to compound the injury and this may well make it worse. You shouldn’t do too much too soon.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, rolling her eyes. “You never answered my question. What do you want?”
He chewed back the concerned words hovering on the tip of his tongue and instead said, “I promised you—weeks ago—that I’d have a check around the place to make sure everything was up to code. I didn’t have the time to get to it sooner, but I have a free afternoon, and I thought I’d pop around and do that for you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“I said I would,” he interrupted stiffly. Quite frankly, he’d been staring at her fucking house all morning, trying to come up with an excuse to come over here. He didn’t know why; all he knew was that he’d been desperate to see her and talk to her. So here he was. Tool box in hand and feeling like a twat for wanting to spend time with a woman who barely acknowledged his existence and who likely didn’t spend half as much time thinking about him, as he did about her.