Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
I looked at the length of his legs and started to shake my head, but he was already moving to open the back door. He didn’t need to be a gentleman about it. I would have been fine in the back, but I appreciated the thought. I had to wonder how much his chivalry had to do with wanting to kiss me again. And if that was what it was about, was it working?
Nope, I decided, because I was going to kiss him again anyway. But a little chivalry didn’t hurt.
I was so wrapped up in my deliberations, I didn’t hear feet pounding the pavement until it was too late. Ford let out a shout, and I turned to see a man dressed in black from head to toe launch himself at Ford. Something dark was in his hand—a gun?
Was that a gun?
What the hell was going on?
Ford leapt at the man, bellowing, “Paige, get down!”
My body followed his direction before my brain had time to catch up, and I hit the ground, my palms and forearms breaking my dive with a raw scrape of flesh on asphalt. My bun unraveled into my eyes, blocking my view with a tangled, dark curtain of hair. The packages fell from my hand as I scrambled under the Jeep, which seemed like the safest place to hide. I tried to see what was happening through the hair in my face, but all I caught were feet moving on the asphalt, Ford’s and the attacker’s. It looked like they were fighting, but I couldn’t tell who was winning.
From the other side of the Jeep, I heard Finn calling 911, calmly explaining what was happening.
How was he so calm?
A gunshot blasted, far too close, and my heart stopped in my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting to feel pain, but if the bullet had hit someone, it wasn’t me.
I wanted to scream Ford’s name, to see if Finn was okay, but my voice was caught in my throat. My lungs locked tight, refusing to draw in air, my heart thudding so hard it was all I could hear. Only the scrape of feet on asphalt, the grunt and thud of more fighting, got through my panic.
In my head, I screamed Ford, Ford, but I couldn’t get the words out.
I worked my way farther under the Jeep, pushing my hair back out of my face. From behind me came another scrape and Finn’s voice. “Stay down, Paige. West’s deputies are on the way.”
“What…what…” I tried to force out the words, but they wouldn’t come.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” Finn said, breathless. “Just stay down.”
In front of me, Ford thudded to the asphalt, landing on his back. I thought to reach for him, but he rolled and then launched to his feet. There was a clatter—the gun tumbling to the ground only feet away. I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid it would discharge, but it had barely landed when it was scooped up. The rumble of an engine filled my ears as a car must have turned into the side lot, and then feet pounding…and everything was quiet.
“Who the fuck was that?” Finn asked, breaking the sudden silence.
“I don’t know who that was,” Ford said, his voice tired. “Or why he jumped me.”
And while I also had no clue what had just happened, I knew in my gut that Ford was lying.
Chapter Eight
FORD
When we finally got back to Heartstone Manor, Finn was driving slower than I think he had since he was a fifteen-year-old with a learner’s permit. From the adrenaline crash or general fear, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t think I was in shock, but I knew I was pissed. Pissed that someone had come at me and endangered all of them. Pissed that I was still paying for something I didn’t do. And absolutely furious that Paige had been caught in the crossfire.
She was all I’d been able to think about all day. That kiss. I hadn’t planned it. I’d been moving on autopilot: lights were out, check the breakers in the hall closet. The door had opened, startling me, and I’d pulled her into the dark without thinking. Then she was in my arms, everything about her soft and warm and so sweet. All my willpower deserted me, and I kissed her.
A better man would regret it—grabbing her, kissing her without asking. The conscience I’d developed in the last decade told me I owed her an apology, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. Kissing Paige was the best decision I’d made in years, and I wanted to do it again. As soon as possible. When she’d walked into the taproom, I’d thought I was dreaming for a second. She’d been haunting me all day, and there she was, in the flesh, sitting at the bar.