Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Well, howdy there, good buddy.” I smile at him. “What brings you in this time? Get in another shootout with some out-of-towner and spend the day in holding?” I tease. I know he’s still butthurting over the article Eileen ran in the paper, and nothing makes me happier than getting his goat.
“Give me a glass of bourbon, Clay,” he replies, already tired of me.
“Wowee, okay, then. Not in the mood for teasing, I see.”
Bennett sighs, and I waggle my eyebrows in front of him, waiting for him to break. If he’s here on a Wednesday night—his second time coming in here in about a week—it’s got to be good. And as I’ve mentioned previously, I’m a little desperate for entertainment.
“Clay. Bourbon, please. Then I’ll consider talking.”
I figure that’s fair enough, so I grab a glass from down below, flip it up, and set it in front of him. After one scoop of ice, I grab the bottle of bourbon to my left and pour until it’s nearly touching the rim. Bennett picks it up and takes one sip, and then another, and drinking it down to half the glass while I watch.
Intrigue builds as I consider how much he seems to be teetering on the edge of control. I wait patiently, wiping at the counter and grabbing drinks when people approach, and after several minutes and an end to foot traffic, he finally starts to talk.
“Breezy’s been on my ass about finding an assistant again. Says the bills are piling up, and I need to start selling shit so I can keep Summer at home and give her the care she needs.” His words are bitter and a necessity all at once.
I nod, just once. I know the last thing Ben wants to do is sell his paintings to rich pricks who only see his art as a money investment, but I know without even having to ask, he’ll do whatever it takes—whatever his sister Breezy says he needs to—to take care of his little girl.
“So, I put that old interview ad up at Earl’s again, and someone actually found the damn thing and came to paint the barn yesterday. Summer and I took a ride down there to see it, and for once, someone actually did something worthwhile.”
“Great.” I love when a solution to a problem comes together.
“Yeah,” he scoffs, his eyes alight with the cruelty of fate. “Except the someone is Norah fucking Ellis.”
Damn, talk about ironic. He’s been annoyed with Norah Ellis ever since she arrived in Red Bridge, something about her basically throwing herself in front of his truck to get a ride into town.
I consider him carefully, noting the line of his tense shoulders and the absolute grind of his jaw. This is more complicated than a woman he hates, and his problems are way too big to focus on that anyway. There’s more to this, as there so often is when it comes to the dynamics of men and women, but I don’t know if he even fully realizes it yet.
“And?” I eventually question.
“And? We’ve had a lot of shit between us in the short time she’s been here, Clay, and not one piece of it is good. You think it’s a good idea I hire her, make her a permanent fixture in my life? In Summer’s?” He shakes his head, completely aggravated with what I understand now is an overwhelming wave of emotion he doesn’t want to have.
He doesn’t hate Norah Ellis. Deep down, he likes her. A lot. And liking someone, wanting someone, when he knows his time with Summer is limited, is an inconvenience for which he’s not spent any time preparing.
For Summer’s illness to weaken her slowly and for his heart to break into a million pieces while he watches? Yes.
Having to share not only her but his affection with someone else? Not at all.
He stares down at his glass while I stare at him, working through all the ways I could tell him what I’m thinking. There are a million and one ways, sure, but very few of which he would find himself receptive to.
I settle for the root of the issue, the one I think he feels the deepest in the sharp stab of his nerves. Bennett is a grump and a prick and a hundred other things, but what he isn’t is selfish when it comes to anything surrounding his daughter.
He can handle it if his heart breaks. But he can’t handle the same for his daughter.
“You’re afraid Summer is going to like her, aren’t you?” I ask gently, leaning a hand into the counter and waiting.
He rolls his eyes, his mood sour, but his words bely his look. He knows it as well as I do…Summer Bishop is an unconditional lover. She spreads joy and compassion, and even being seven young years old, she’ll be unable to stop herself from being the little angel that fixes the sadness in Norah’s eyes. “Are you kidding? All that fanciness? She’ll fall in love.”