Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
‘I should be going.’ I push myself away, all in a fluster, my work predicament forgotten and the urgency to remove myself from the situation now dominating my mind. I grab my bags but forgo the drawings, knowing it’ll take me too long to fold them all up. I need to get out of here now before I let my attraction and want get the better of me. Before I cave under the pressure of his struggle, because it would be all too easy to fall into his arms again. So easy. Yet the aftermath and backlash would be unbearable.
I hurry away, keen to get myself home and talk some sense and strength into myself.
‘Annie, wait!’ Jack calls after me.
I ignore his plea and keep going, knowing I’ll be doomed if I let him stop me.
‘Annie!’
I hit the fresh air and take the steps fast, but come to an abrupt halt when Jack overtakes me and blocks my path. ‘Jack, please don’t.’ My breath is laboured, not only because of my rushed escape from him.
‘I won’t, I promise.’ He steps back, giving me space, his hands held up in surrender. ‘I’m sorry.’
I fix him in place with a sure, curt expression. ‘Then. Let. Me. Leave,’ I say slowly, watching as he breathes in deeply. After what seems like ages, he finally moves to the side to let me pass.
I hurry away, fighting against the magnetic pull trying to drag me back to him.
The pull that’s getting tougher to resist by the second.
Chapter 9
I spot Micky outside the café and hurry over, landing in my chair with a thud. It’s been a long bloody day of technical drawings and calculations on my roof . . . and the total head-fuck that is Jack Joseph. I’m drained, my mind bent in more ways than one, and I didn’t sleep a wink last night, memories of his words and of his bare, sweaty chest refusing to leave my mind. That vision plagued me all fucking night. Still is.
‘All right?’ Micky asks, eyeing up my stressed form.
‘My brain is frazzled,’ I sigh, dumping my bag down on the chair next to me. ‘Problem at work that I’ve been trying to fix.’
‘You work too hard. When was the last time you went on holiday?’
I cast my mind back . . . and back . . . and back.
‘I rest my case.’ He shows the sky his palms with a shrug. ‘You look tired. Take some time off and relax. Do nothing. Your business isn’t going to fall apart if you take a break.’
He’s wrong. It most definitely would fall apart. Besides, even if it wouldn’t, going on holiday and doing nothing means I’d get to think too much, and I don’t want to be thinking right now because there’s only one subject my brain annoyingly wants to focus on. ‘Maybe next year,’ I murmur, looking past Micky into the distance.
‘Oh no.’
I snap out of my short daydream immediately and find Micky looking at me, all worried. ‘What?’
‘That look. What are you thinking?’
‘Nothing.’ I laugh and start faffing with the spoon at my place setting.
‘Annie . . .’ My name is said on a long, warning exhale of air, and I laugh again, with a lack of anything else to do. Micky has known me my entire life. I’m not fooling him. ‘Tell me.’
‘Nothing to tell.’ I wave a hand in the air, feigning indifference, and pray he leaves it right there. ‘Work’s crazy.’
‘And have you seen him?’
‘Not really,’ I reply weakly, hating myself for not being able to sound convincing. I’m too tired to find the energy to be convincing.
Micky moves back in his chair slowly, eyeing me with caution. ‘Please tell me you’ve not been there again.’
I slam my mouth shut and avert my eyes from his. ‘No.’ Though I haven’t physically been there again, I have in my head, a million times, and that’s making me feel just as guilty.
‘I hope not.’ Micky leans across the table, probably to ensure I can see with perfect clarity how stern his face is. ‘You know, because he’s fucking married!’
‘Will you be quiet?’ I hiss across the table, my frantic eyes checking the vicinity, looking as paranoid as I feel. ‘I’ve not been there again, and I don’t plan to either.’
Micky throws himself across the table threateningly, and I withdraw, worried. I’ve never seen him look so angry. ‘I don’t like this. Is he pursuing you?’
‘No,’ I lie, for fear of my lifelong friend taking matters into his own hands. He looks perfectly capable right now.
‘Are you pursuing him?’
‘No.’ That’s not a lie. I haven’t. ‘I’m working with him, Micky. It’s hard not to see someone when you’re being forced to work with them.’
‘No one is forcing you to do anything.’
‘Are you suggesting I should throw away my dream job because some arsehole led me on?’ At that very moment, my phone starts buzzing on the table, and Jack’s name flashes up at us. I reach and reject the call, stabbing at the screen of my phone heavy-handedly. I look up at my friend and his lips purse.