Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
“Got it.”
“Do you have any cash?” I ask, and he frowns. “Mike’s frozen everything. Changed the locks. I’ve booked her a few nights in a hotel until her parents are back, but I can’t transfer any money for incidentals because she has no access to her accounts. He’s cut off her phone too.”
John scowls. “I have cash,” he says, tapping his jacket pocket.
“Thanks. I’ll pay you back.” I look at Coral, hoping it will be the last time. “Take care, Coral.”
She nods, lifting her hand to reach for me, but I move back, shaking my head, making myself as clear as possible. This means nothing. I’m just a man helping a woman in need. We’re not even friends.
She nods, accepting, moving away, and John walks her out. I search for Ava, finding her looking this way. Her eyes meet mine, and my heart that’s been slow this past hour speeds up again to a more comfortable pace. I get my arse across to her, set on making up for lost time. Or I try to get my arse across to her. Every fucker between here and there seems to want to chat.
“The food was sublime, Ward,” someone says.
“Thanks.”
“It’s knocking on ten thirty,” someone else says. “You joining us?”
“No.”
“Love the giftbags.”
“Great night as always.”
I nod, not looking, just pushing my way through.
“Who’s the hotty in lace?”
I turn my deadly glare on to someone—I’ve no fucking clue who—and he steps back, his eyes wide. “Off limits.”
“Understood.”
“Good.” I pull my jacket in and take two more steps.
“Jesse, you look dashing this evening.”
“Thanks.” I dip, letting a woman—again, no idea who—kiss my cheek.
Sam cheers my arrival as I lower to my chair, but Ava does not. I feel her eyes drilling into me as Sarah looks at me in question. She won’t be happy that I’ve bailed Coral out. So I won’t be telling her.
Now, I need to apologize to my girl and get on with the night. I squeeze her knee under the table. “Forgive me?”
“Who was that?”
“No one for you to be concerned about. How is the food?” She’s barely touched it.
“It’s good,” she says, definitely short. “You should eat.”
The moment she says that, a plate is lowered in front of me. I collect my fork, keeping hold of Ava, and eat with one hand, picking at the salmon, feeling the thorny atmosphere between me and Ava. I keep dodging Sarah’s curious looks, and Kate is glaring at me too. Should I have gotten John to handle Coral? Fuck, I don’t know.
John makes it back to the table and gestures it’s taken care of, and I feel Ava stiffen under my hold, taking more wine. Every sip feels like a giant fuck you. But I don’t bite. Instead, I shower her with attention. She doesn’t reciprocate, her mouth tight. Denying me.
I look at her, finding narrowed eyes and a slightly twisted mouth. She’s punishing me. “Are you holding back on me?” I helped a woman out. What the hell was I supposed to do? Leave all hell to break loose?
“Yes,” she replies, straight-up and curt. “Are you?”
“Hey,” I snap before I can stop myself, getting as worked up as Ava. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” I realize my hand has tensed, therefore my hold has tightened on her knee, so I loosen it as Ava looks at me in disbelief.
“Let’s see what your reaction would be if a mystery man pulled me away from you for over an hour.”
Um. Let’s not. All the men that could want to pull Ava away from me want to take her away from me. Okay, Coral wants me, but what makes Ava’s point moot is the simple fact that none of the women who want me could ever turn me against Ava. Sadly, I can’t say the same about me. And doesn’t that amplify my frustration in this moment when I should definitely be working to ease her worry.
I talk myself down, taking a few breaths, and do something pretty fucking shameful. But as I have said a thousand times, I will wield this power unapologetically. I know this is a conversation we need to have—I can’t deflect from who Coral is forever—but now is not the time.
I stroke up Ava’s thigh, watching her chest push out subtly. “Ava, please don’t say things that will make me crazy mad. I’ve told you not to worry so you shouldn’t. End of.”
She snarls, and it’s fierce. “Stop kissing all the women,” she hisses petulantly, turning back to the table, therefore away from me. But she’s not pissed off with me right now. No. She’s pissed off with herself because her body is reacting, and she desperately needs to stay mad with me. She’ll do her best, I’m sure. As will I to knock her out of her bad mood.