Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“I’m too old to fight for what the animals need. I must start thinking about a time when I will no longer be here.”
“That’s a long way off.” I squeeze his arm in reassurance.
“There’s certainly a lot of life left in this old dog, but I’m tired of worrying about the future of the place. But I don’t want to sell it to find it turned into a bloody hotel.”
“That I understand.” What the heck am I supposed to say?
“Tell me that’s not what he’ll do.”
“Who, Oliver? All I can say is he’s talked a lot about Northaby, but he never mentioned the animals.”
“Oh.” His brow furrows, his mouth turning down.
“No,” I add quickly. “What I’m trying to say is I think he wanted the safari park to be a surprise.” Or maybe a shock to keep me on my toes.
“Oh!” The same sound. Not the same tone. And may God strike me down for fooling this man. I need to speak to Oliver—find out what his intentions are. And if they are what I think they are, then . . . then I’m screwed.
“I can tell you’re very special to him.” At the edge of the dance floor, Mandy takes my hand, but before he lifts it to his shoulder, he stares down at the ring on my right hand. “Because this is one of the new pieces from Garrard, I believe.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I reply, allowing him to move us into the dancing throng.
“A man doesn’t buy a woman eighty thousand pounds’ worth of sapphires, aquamarine, and diamonds for no reason, my dear.”
Eighty thousand! I break out in a literal cold sweat, but then I remember it’s only on loan. That it doesn’t mean anything. I clamp my lips together, worried about what I might say as my heart begins to race. It’s one thing to turn up, to play my role; it’s quite another for me to suggest Mandy’s animals will be safe.
“I’d go even as far as to say that you, and Oliver, of course, might be Northaby’s future.”
“Mandy, I don’t know. Who knows what goes on in Oliver’s head?” I prattle as panic begins to flutter in my chest. “I love all animals—”
“And history, quite obviously.”
“Yes, and history. And while animals are a huge part of my life, my experience isn’t in zoological medicine.”
“It doesn’t need to be,” he says, patting my back. “The place just needs money and love, and I have a good feeling about all of this. I’m a great believer in intuition.”
This is bad. Really bad. What the hell am I going to do about this? Oliver isn’t the type of man who’d want the responsibility for those creatures. Meanwhile, Mandy is like Nora on crack! Except Mandy is a nice man who has manners and seems to like people as much as he likes animals.
“Whoops.” Amusement makes his eyes sparkle and the apples of his cheeks lift.
“Sorry for your toes,” I murmur, panic having forced me into a misstep.
“My fault entirely.”
“You’re too kind.”
“And you’re too lovely to wear that frown.”
I guess there’s nothing I can do about this situation right now other than concentrate and try hard not to crush any more of his toes.
The music changes, the tempo a little more upbeat, and Mandy totally gets with it as we swirl around the floor.
“I haven’t had this much fun in ages. If Oliver hadn’t put a ring on it, I might’ve been tempted to do so myself.”
“It’s a friendship ring, Mandy,” I say with a laugh, “not that I expect jewels in exchange for my friendship.”
“Oliver is more than your friend. We both know that, my dear. The way he looks at you . . .” His words trail off, and then his eyes slip over my right shoulder as though snagged by something unexpected.
A second later, revulsion zips down my spine, anger quickly following at the familiar and unwelcome sound of Mitch’s voice.
“May I cut in?”
Every fiber revolts, my emotions rioting inside my chest like a storm. I want to yell, No you may not. You may go to hell. Eat shit and die. Swallow peanut butter and swell while I run away with your EpiPen.
Sadly, none of that is appropriate. This man has brought me to disgrace in a public setting one too many times.
“Yes, of course,” Mandy replies, taking my unease for I don’t know what. But etiquette dictates he step aside. “One dance, and I’ll be back again. One dance,” he repeats, this time for Mitchell’s benefit.
As Mandy turns away, I do the same in the opposite direction. Until Mitch’s fingers fold around my upper arm.
“For old times’ sake?”
“Get your hand off me.”
“One dance,” he demands, yanking me bodily against him. “Unless you’re planning on running again.”
“Say what you need to, and get the fuck out of my life,” I grate out, assuming the position—submitting. Short of the physical violence I still harbor for him, what choices do I have? Causing a scene might jeopardize everything.