Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
He asks, “Are you coming to bed?”
I’d come so close to climbing under the covers. It would be so easy to enjoy the time we have left, but what happens after? “I think . . .”
He sits up, and the covers fall from his toned torso, his strong shoulders displayed as he rests his arms on his knees. “Do you want me to leave, Lauralee?”
The question lies between us as the words race through my brain in search of the answer. I shake my head. “I don’t know what I want, but I shouldn’t want this like I do.”
Without words, he gets out of bed and moves across the room to where he’d left his jeans on the floor. “I’m gonna go.”
“Maybe that’s best.” My insides sure don’t believe what I’m saying. I feel closer to being sick.
He stilled when I spoke, but without looking back at me, he gets dressed, grabs his socks and shoes in his hand, and walks into the other room. I make it to the doorway in time to see him grab his keys and unlock the front door. With his hand on the knob, he looks back at me over his shoulder. “I didn’t want to complicate your life.” He opens the door and steps outside. One last look back not only captures my eyes but also my heart. That’s when I know that complicated is all we can be together. “See you around, Shortcake.”
I raise a hand, but the words choke in my throat until it’s too late to respond. The door is closed, leaving me with a heavy chest that I’m pretty sure is my heart. “See you around,” I whisper while locking the door.
Leaning my head against it, I tap my forehead twice, conflicted if I made the right decision by cutting him out before getting hurt, or if I just let one of the best things to happen to me in forever walk out the door.
I lift my head and turn back to the bedroom. Walking through the quiet apartment leaves too much room to second-guess myself. It was a fun weekend fling. Nothing more.
“Exactly.” I laugh, though it’s forced. Throwing my hands up in the air, I try to laugh harder with real intention. “You’re being absurd, Lauralee. It’s not like Baylor Greene’s your soulmate or anything.” Even saying it out loud sounds ridiculous to my ears. But then my feet stop just as I reach the bed, and I look back toward the front door again. “I’d know if he were. Right?”
Ignoring how my entire body wants to run to see if he’s still here by chance, I lie to myself, and say, “I’d feel it. Right?”
Would it be so bad if I just checked?
I roll my eyes as I head back to the door. Unlocking it, I rationalize once again that I was never supposed to fall for Baylor Greene. So I need to stop acting like I have.
Tugging the door wide open, I stare at the empty lot. Why do I do this to myself? Now all that’s left is a stupid buildup of hope dropping to the pit of my stomach. This is good. Pain into power. Now I have the answer I needed.
There’s no such thing as soulmates.
CHAPTER 10
Baylor
It’s not the first time I’ve fucked up.
I can confidently say it’s not the tenth or the hundredth either. A thousand times might be pushing it, though. I’m not that bad.
Yet I’ve successfully fucked up with Lauralee.
Slamming my hands down on the steering wheel, I stare out at the sun rising in the distance over the open road that leads to the ranch. It’s a sight to behold and one I miss more often than not these days when I’m in Manhattan. But it can’t take the sting away.
Should I turn around and apologize?
Or let it lie like I usually do?
I honestly thought Lauralee and I were on the same page, so I’m not sure why she took offense to me stating the obvious. Maybe it’s that simple. It didn’t need to be said. So when I did, it messed up what we’d just shared.
Ultimately, isn’t this best?
No misunderstandings.
No confusion as to where things stand.
No feelings getting hurt in the aftermath of whatever this is. Well, other than what’s already been said.
Crossing the cattleguard reminds me of all the times I used to try to sneak back home in high school. I knew how slow I needed to go to keep from alerting the entire ranch and, more importantly, my parents back then. Now, here I am, a grown man going four miles an hour over the metal grate hoping to keep everyone here less wise to my comings and goings.
I park a little way back from the main house, figuring I might be able to sneak into the house and get a few hours of sleep in my old room at the top of the stairs versus heading down to my sister’s place and trying to get past the kids unnoticed.