Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
And a little higher.
My lips part, eyelids closing in a heavy blink. There is no part of my body that doesn’t crave his touch.
This is so wrong.
My fingers curl into tight fists, keeping them from reaching for his hair to pull him to me.
He audibly swallows and stands. I force my breath to leave my lungs in tiny, controlled, and muted increments.
“Better.” He grins, standing and guiding my arms around his neck.
Better? Is he joking? I’m sweating from head to toe.
I can’t tear my gaze from his, as I silently demand he explain what just happened. But he says nothing. Eyes intense, a little dark.
After swaying for a bit, Murphy takes my hand and twirls me again, breaking the intensity of the moment. I lift onto my toes and pirouette dramatically.
He grins. “Nice.”
I giggle, stepping back into his embrace, pretending nothing happened—falling into character. “I don’t know why you think I’m good at everything.”
Murphy hums. “Good question.” His eyes shift, inspecting my face before stopping on my lips, stirring the flames again. I step on his toes again because I’m the worst dancer when he’s looking at me like we’re back in time, dancing on the creaky wood floor in his rental.
He’s engaged.
I have Callen.
If those two reasons aren’t enough to step away from his embrace, there are at least a hundred other good ones.
As if he can read my thoughts, Murphy releases me. The song is almost over anyway. He pulls in a long breath through his nose, lacing his hands behind his neck while eyeing me.
“Alice,” he says my name like it’s bitter coming off his tongue.
The guilt in his eyes spurs me to put on my shoes. Then I smooth my hand down my ponytail and pin a cordial smile on my face. “Tell Mr. Morrison I’ve requested the evening off, so I have to keep working if I want to leave early. He can plant his feet and sway with Vera. It’s the thought that counts.”
Murphy eyes me, the lines of regret along his forehead deepening. Without a word, he slowly nods, releasing his arms to his sides.
Whoever tried to simplify love into boy meets girl, they fall in love, the end, should be shot. Real life is more complicated. Love is fucking messy. We try to rationalize it and make rules. We take vows and oaths like our hearts don’t have a say.
I can be logical or I can be in love. But I’m certain I can’t do both.
Not now.
So I’ll choose logic because I destroyed Murphy once by choosing love. I can’t do it again.
I spend my evening at the playhouse, grinning uncontrollably and even shedding a few cathartic tears. Where would I be today had I followed my passion for acting instead of following in my mother’s footsteps? I never would have met Chris. He’d probably be alive. And I wouldn’t know Murphy Paddon. That world is hard to imagine.
When I return home, there’s a suitcase inside my front door, but it’s not mine.
“Hello?” I call.
Nothing.
I check the name on the tag.
Krista Yates
“Mom?” I shuffle toward the back door, but she’s not out back. Perhaps she went for a walk around the lake.
The real question is, what is she doing here? I text her.
Where are you?
She replies.
Visiting with your neighbors.
Neighbors?
“Oh no …” I cringe. She’s at the main house.
I head straight to the back door and let myself in, slipping off my canvas sneakers and adjusting the belt of my fitted denim jeans. Then I find everyone on the second-floor covered balcony, sipping drinks.
“Hello,” Vera says when I open the door. “Come have a seat. What can I get you to drink?”
“Sweetie,” Mom says, eyes wide as she stands, like she’s waiting for me to throw my arms around her and celebrate her surprise visit.
“I’m fine. Thanks, Vera.” I return a tiny smile and soft nod while turning down her drink offer.
“Who’s this girl?” Hunter winks at me as I skirt around the perimeter of chairs to reach my mom. “I don’t think I’ve seen you with your hair down since the day we met.”
Keeping a smile plastered to my face, I release a tiny laugh. From the loveseat on the opposite side of the balcony, Blair eyes me, her legs draped over Murphy’s lap, her hand possessively on his chest.
“What an unexpected surprise,” I say to my mom through clenched teeth as we hug.
“Is there any other kind of surprise?”
Everyone laughs.
“I suppose not.” I sit in the swivel chair next to hers.
“I knocked on their door, looking for you of course, and the next thing I know, Vera invites me in for wine. Now I see why you love this house manager position.”
Vera and Hunter beam with pride.
Blair clears her throat. “Actually, your daughter is a homemaker.”
Murphy shoots her a look and squeezes her leg.