Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Though his role as Lofton’s ex-husband definitely piqued my interest.
“What does he want?” I snapped.
“He’s looking for Lofton.”
“Yeah, so is half the fucking country, and one seriously pissed-off stalker.” My gaze shifted toward the house again.
Had she called him?
Told him where she was?
Asked him to come?
And why the hell did that burn?
As much as I wanted to tell the fucker to take a hike and never look back, if she wanted to see him, it wasn’t my job to stop her. I’d learned my lesson on that the hard way years earlier. Hell, it was the exact reason I was in this position to begin with.
“He give you a reason?” I asked.
“No. I told him she wasn’t here. So now he’s pivoted and refusing to leave until he talks to Jenn. I got him waiting in his car. Figured you’d want to know before I call the cops and this turns into a thing.”
It was Lofton Beck and Sebastian Cristobal. Their divorce announcement almost plunged social media into mourning. It wasn’t just going to be a thing; if somebody caught wind that he was there, it was going to turn into front-page news.
I clenched my teeth. “Hold him there. I’m on my way.”
I hung up and brought up her text thread. My thumbs moved quickly, and I damn near broke the screen when I hit the send button.
Me: Your ex-husband is at the front gate.
When she didn’t reply, I called Apollo.
He answered on the second ring. “You want me to screenshot a picture of you with Sebastian Cristobal for your scrapbook?”
“Fuck off.”
He started laughing, but I found not one damn thing funny.
“Does Lofton have her phone on her?” I snapped.
“Let me check. Phone is…” there was a long pause as he presumably scanned the monitors. “Still in the kitchen. She’s in the dining room with her dad.”
Of course, she was. Murphy’s law and all.
I exhaled slowly. “All right. I’m going in.”
Apollo barked another laugh. “Have fun with that.”
I ended the call and climbed down from the loft. Dirt and hay crunched under my boots as I jogged out of the barn and across the driveway to the house. I debated knocking, but opted just to type in my security code and walk inside, hoping like hell I could get her attention without her dad spotting me.
The front door creaked as I stepped into the house. Voices drifted from the dining room. I couldn’t make out the words, but Lofton’s tone was soft and gentle and her father’s chuckle was deep and rich.
With stealthy steps, I made it through the living room. I paused just long enough to settle my expression into something neutral before peering around the doorway.
Her back was to me.
Her father’s was not.
He froze mid-bite, spoon hanging in the air as his smile fell.
Lofton followed his gaze over her shoulder. When our eyes met, she shot out of her seat, nearly knocking over her chair.
For a brief second, I forgot why I was there.
She was wearing short denim overalls with a white cropped t-shirt beneath, boots, and her hair pulled into a messy knot.
It was simple. Practical. Farm girl.
And somehow, the cutest damn thing I’d ever seen.
Drawing in a deep breath, I sent up a quick prayer that I could pull this off without triggering him. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Her eyes flashed wide. “Everything okay?”
I tilted my head toward the door. “Actually, I could use some help with one of the horses. It’s being … difficult.”
Her father stared at me, face blank and unreadable.
Holding my breath, I debated introducing myself as the new farmhand to jumpstart the connection in his brain rather than waiting for the fallout.
Lofton appeared equally torn, her nervous gaze bouncing between us.
Finally, the old man put us both out of our misery.
“Sounds like Salty,” he muttered before sliding the spoon into his mouth.
Lofton’s exhale was audible, and she reached up to slide a small diamond back and forth over the thin gold chain at her neck. “Probably. Let me go and check. I’ll be right back.”
He nodded and didn’t spare me another glance as he ate a piece of bacon.
She hurried past me, not stopping until we were at the front door. Pride puffed my chest when she didn’t immediately walk outside, potentially putting herself in more danger had I been there for a different reason.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, panic filling her features.
Unable to stop myself, I glided my hand up and down her arm. “Relax. Everything’s fine.”
She flicked her gaze back to the dining room. “Then why’d you come inside?”
I opened the door and guided her out onto the porch. “You didn’t have your phone. Your ex-husband is at the gate and I need to know how you want me to handle this.”
She froze. “Sebastian?”
I arched an eyebrow. “You got more than one?”
“Apparently, because there is not a chance in hell Sebastian Cristobal has the balls to show his face here.”