Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
But I don’t find Christian insufferable.
He’s always made me laugh, and the way he’s looking at me in my little black sundress makes me feel beautiful and seen.
Christian sees me and Christian isn’t the type of guy to kiss and run.
If Christian and I decided to be more than friends, he’d still be there in the morning when I woke up, let alone two minutes after the actual event. Even if I didn’t know his dating history or that he has a reputation around town for being a stand-up guy despite his wild side, I would sense that about Chris.
It’s right there in those sky-blue eyes that meet mine now without a hint of hesitation or doubt.
And sure, a piece of my heart still wants to run up the hill and throw itself at Barrett’s feet, but it’s a much smaller part than before.
I just watched Drew propose to Tatum and two people I adore embark on the next stage of their life together. I teared up hugging Sarah Beth, Drew’s daughter, and congratulating her on her soon-to-be stepmom and the baby brother or sister due this Christmas. The people I love are growing up and moving on with their lives, and it’s high time I did the same. All that mooning over Barrett ever got me was way too many nights alone and a boatload of regret.
Maybe by the time Christian and I dance under the stars at the ball next weekend, that foolish piece of my heart will have shrunk small enough that it might feel okay to develop feelings for a different McGuire. One who might actually have room in his heart for me.
My lips part to say “yes,” when suddenly Barrett barges into the middle of our little assembly, booming, “Wren, I need to speak with you. Now.”
And then, all hell breaks loose.
But this time, I have nothing to do with it.
Chapter Six
BARRETT
I haven’t planned what to say when I get Wren alone—I haven’t had time—but I trust that I’ll come up with something.
I know this woman better than she thinks and far better than I did three months ago.
About a week into her leave of absence, it became clear that the emptiness gnawing at my chest wasn’t going away. I realized I missed Wren, probably more than missed her, judging by how often memories of our last night together played on my mental screen. Two weeks in, with still no sign of an ease in the pain, I had to admit I was probably in love with the woman, and that I likely have been for much longer than I realized.
Since that day, I’ve made it my business to become an expert on all things Wren Marie Baxter. I’ve eavesdropped on the other nurses’ conversations, reread Wren’s chart notes on especially difficult cases, and stalked her social media feeds like a creep who lives in his mother’s basement.
I’ve seen how selflessly she supports her friends and family, how hard she works to find the light in the darkest times, and how incredibly intelligent and well-respected she is by her peers. The woman could have easily been a doctor and probably should have been, since her bedside manner is far superior to mine.
I’m a calm, kind presence in a crisis, but Wren makes people feel loved.
She’s incredible, rare, and as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. And she loved me—or at least had a serious crush—but I fucked it all up.
Because she certainly isn’t looking pleased to see me now.
As soon as my demand for a private audience is out, I realize how bossy and entitled I sound. My lips part on an apology, but before I can backtrack, Kyle flies at me with his wings spread and his claws scrabbling.
“Kyle, no!” Starling shouts, but the hell beast isn’t listening. “Sit!”
The turkey emits a sound somewhere between a gobble and a banshee’s scream and climbs my body like a tree. I lift my arms, shielding my face from his attack, while the bony spurs near his heels tear at my bare arms, making me regret rolling up the sleeves on my dress shirt.
“Kyle, sit down! Sit!” Wren shouts, followed by a warning from my brother for her to, “Stay back, he could take your eye out,” and a plaintive screech from Starling, begging Kyle to “Sit, buddy, please, sit! You’ve been doing so well, don’t backslide now!”
I stumble backward, blinded by feathers and my own arms, but determined to protect the others in the event the deranged gobbler decides to turn his fury their way. Once I’ve put a good amount of distance between us, I place my palm at the center of Kyle’s ample chest and push as hard as I can.
But fighting back only buys me a second to catch my breath before he’s on me again, like some kind of avenging angel.