Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
She smiled up at Jack. He really was so sweet.
“But you should make me apologize properly,” Ian told her.
“You seemed to be having trouble getting it out, though. I just wanted to help you.”
“Help. Me.” Ian sighed. “Maggie, you’re being too sweet.”
“I am? Is that a bad thing?”
“Not as long as you have someone to protect your soft spot,” Ian said gently. “And make sure that you aren’t taken advantage of.”
But she didn’t have anyone to do that. So what did that mean?
Jack placed his hand on the small of her back and she leaned into it slightly.
“What I said yesterday. . . I didn’t mean it. I was rude. I was in a bad mood and . . . I was a complete and total dickhead.”
“It’s really big of you to acknowledge and recognize that about yourself. You were definitely a diddlewombat.”
“Right,” he said, looking somewhat confused. “Definitely. So you’ll forgive me?”
“Yes, of course. I already said I would. I do . . . I mean . . . I work hard for my uncle. And I’m not trying to take advantage of him or anything.”
Ian’s face dropped. “Oh, Little Misfit, I know that. Like I said, I was a complete diddlewombat. From now on, I’m going to try very hard to think before I speak.”
But then he wouldn’t be Ian, would he? So she didn’t know about that.
However, she nodded since he seemed to need it.
“All right. Thanks. And, um, thanks for leaving food out for me.”
He frowned. “You didn’t eat it.”
She waited for him to bark at her that she needed to eat and to come with him now so he could ensure that she did.
But he grimaced. “I guess you weren’t hungry.”
Okay. Maybe he really was trying to be less, uh, domineering. Though it was weird.
“I need to go check on the perimeter,” Ian said. “Jack, are you coming?”
“Nope,” Jack replied.
She gave him a surprised look at the abrupt reply. Ian didn’t look pleased, either, but he turned around and left.
“Do you want to do some meditation?” she asked Jack.
“Sure. But first . . . I wanted to ask you on a date?”
Okay. That was not what she was expecting. She gaped at him. “A date?”
“Yep. There’s an ice skating rink that was built about three months ago. I thought we could go ice skating. I know you were a really good ice skater.”
Panic seized her. She couldn’t breathe. She shook her head, her heart racing. There was no way . . . no way she could do that.
“Maggie? Are you all right?” Jack reached for her, concern filling his face.
But she stumbled back. She couldn’t have him touch her right now. She knew she’d lose it.
“I can’t . . . I can’t . . . I’m sorry.” Turning, she raced down the stairs, ignoring the way her hip protested the movement after all the walking she’d done in the last two days.
Heading into her bedroom, she locked the door. Then, grabbing Ziggy and a blanket, she climbed into the empty bathtub.
She couldn’t . . . she couldn’t . . .
There was no way she could go back onto the ice.
Ever.
15
Maggie felt numb the next day.
Part of her was aware that Jack hadn’t once smiled at her. Or spoken to her directly. If she was capable of feeling much, she’d be upset by that.
By her stupidity.
Why hadn’t she just told him she’d love to go on a date but that she couldn’t ice-skate?
Instead, she’d run away like a fool and hidden in a bathtub.
Who did that?
People who really liked bathtubs, she guessed. And her.
She’d barely slept last night. She’d suffered from nightmares. And at one stage, after a particularly bad one, she’d woken up feeling like someone was watching her again.
Maggie, you are losing your mind.
Yep. She sure was.
When Uncle Willy knocked on her door at four in the morning, it had actually been a relief. Last night, he’d decided that they were getting up for some early morning shots in the desert. He wanted different shots at different times of the day.
Normally, she hated early morning starts, but it wasn’t like she’d been getting any sleep anyway.
“Here, let me take that,” Ian said, walking up to her with a frown as he reached for the bag she was carrying. Suddenly, he paused. “I mean, if you want me to.”
He was acting so strange that if she wasn’t so exhausted and numb, she’d be more upset.
Wait . . . did she like Ian’s bossy and domineering ways?
She really was losing it.
“I’ve got it. It’s my job.” Even though her body was burning with fatigue. At least that meant she was feeling something.
Ian opened his mouth to argue, then he shut it abruptly.
“Maggie, dear, let’s go,” Uncle Willy yelled, clearly excited.
“Okie-dokie.”
What she wouldn’t give for her bed and some sleeping pills. She hadn’t brought any with her, though. She was scared of using them too much. Of becoming reliant.