Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
"Claire, that's not—"
“Thank you for not firing me.”
She meets my eyes for the first time, and I hate the gratefulness in her tone, as if any of this is her damn fault.
There's a soul-deep sadness on her face that is so ingrained I know that although tonight was no fun for her, it was only one more thing in a long line of things that she's been through.
"I've got to get to work," she says before I can offer her help with anything she may need. She made it very clear she doesn't want anyone interfering in her life, and I'm in no position to argue that with her.
The shift continues like it would any other night, but after the last customers leave and she's out there cleaning up, I can't help but feel like I'm part of her problem. She's here rather than with her daughter, and I don't want to be just one more thing she grows to despise.
"I'll have Maggie take back over the closing shifts. I can give you something earlier," I tell her when she's rolling the mop bucket back to the utility closet.
"Why?" she snaps.
"So you have more time at home with your daughter."
"That gives me less time with her," she says, her shoulders slumped forward a little.
"I just want to make things easier for you," I confess, even when I know it's probably the very last thing she wants to hear. The woman has no shortage of people trying to help her in this damn town, and I know she's at her wit's end with all the offers.
"I spend time with her after my shift at the clinic. When I start my shift here, it's her bedtime. I'd prefer to leave it how it is." Her voice starts to weaken. "Larkin is asleep so it's not like she's missing me."
She spins around and gives me her back, but I can't let her slip away angry again. The woman is going to stroke out with all this outrage and indignation she's feeling if she doesn't get a better handle on it.
Instead of walking past me after she closes the utility closet door, she heads toward the office as if the tiny room will provide some sort of escape.
I have no doubt that she'd pace like a caged animal if the room were big enough to move around in, but instead, she takes deep breaths while picking up piles of receipts and paperwork before stacking them all together.
"If you want me to work an earlier shift, I guess I can't really tell you how to run your business," she growls, her hands working through the stack she created and sorting each item by likeness. "It's not like I get to dictate anything. Not even in my own life."
"Claire."
"Everyone else is making all my decisions for me. Why not add you to that list? It's not like I'm responsible enough to know when my child should sleep. I can just put her to bed at five, let her get a nap, and then keep her up from midnight to three in the morning so I can spend time with her."
"I don't know enough about kids to tell you what to do," I say.
This draws her eyes up to mine, but a second later, she drops them again and the paper shuffling seems to quadruple.
"Claire," I snap, walking up to her and grabbing her hands to keep her from sifting through even more paperwork. My office was a mess to begin with but at least it didn't have paperwork all over the floor like it does now.
"It was like a fifty-dollar battery. It's not that big of a deal."
When her eyes go from frantic to narrowing at me, I know it was once again the wrong thing to say to her.
Her gaze dips down to my lips for the briefest of seconds, but she might as well have run her hand over the front of my jeans while purring all the filthy things I've imagined her doing to me in my ear because it derails whatever train of thought I imagined I could maintain around this woman.
Instead of letting her speak her mind, I tug her to my chest and press my mouth to hers. I have no doubt there will be consequences, but there's no way I can have her attention on me and not kiss her.
The kiss is utter perfection, three seconds of the best kiss of my life, but I realize very quickly that as wonderful as it is on my part, she isn't kissing me back. That makes me feel as creepy as it did meeting her eyes when she caught me in her backyard earlier.
Despite feeling the way I feel and realizing what I do, I'm the instant asshole that doubles down, trying to slip my tongue into her mouth rather than backing off like I can tell she wants me to.