Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“You’ve got it bad,” Franklin observes, studying my sly, silly smile at the dirty thought. “You really are too dreamy with your handsome doctor.”
“What’s it like to hear that accent when you’re in bed together?” Stacy asks with a giggle. “Is he a proper gentleman, or does he secretly have a dirty mouth?”
My cheeks flame, and Franklin comes to my rescue.
“Abby isn’t one to kiss and tell. Come on, we have to go, or we’ll be late to meet the girls for tacos. You need sustenance if you’re going to drink more. I don’t want to be wrangling you two before midnight if you get too tipsy.”
Grateful for the reprieve, I grab my favorite pink handbag and head for the door. My friends follow without any more awkward questions about my intimate life with Dane.
When I turn from locking my door, my stomach drops.
Ron is standing in the breezeway, his lascivious eyes lingering on my cowgirl boots, up my legs, and flicking over my chest before finding my face. His round features split in a boyish grin.
“Well, hello there. Where are you headed off to, all dressed up like that?”
“We’re going out,” Franklin says coldly.
“Sounds fun,” Ron says, eyes still on me. “Mind if I join?”
My skin crawls, but I straighten my shoulders and fix him with a glower like he’s a disgusting bug I’ve just crushed beneath my boot.
“Yes, we do mind. You’re not invited.”
I recall the day Dane found me in the powder blue house. He’d been covered in mud and blood.
I’d assumed the worst, but it seems Ron survived whatever Dane did to him.
For a savage, vindictive moment, I wish he were dead. The way he’s looking at me makes my stomach churn. He’s a predator, just like Stephen. Just like Tom, my debutante date who raped me.
I blink and clear the murderous thought from my mind. Ron eyes my shame-heated cheeks, studying my expression intently.
“There’s no need to be like that,” he says, all good-ol’-boy charm. “I don’t bite.”
“No, but you do corner women when they’re alone and force yourself on them,” Franklin snaps back. “Leave us alone, or I’ll let Abby kick you in the balls again.”
His jaw goes slack with shock, as though he can’t believe my friend would speak to him that way.
“We’re celebrating her engagement,” Stacy tells Ron pointedly. “Have you ever met her fiancé? He seems like a perfect gentleman, but I’m sure he can kick your scrawny ass.”
“If Abby doesn’t kick it first,” Franklin declares. “We’ll help.”
Ron’s brows draw together. “Now, wait a minute.”
“No,” Franklin refuses. “For god’s sake, I thought you moved out weeks ago, and now you’re back like a bad fucking penny. You might live here, but you will not speak to our Abby ever again.”
“Come on,” Stacy urges. “Let’s go. This creep isn’t going to ruin our night.”
I glower at him. “Definitely not. If you try to touch me again, you’ll regret it.”
Dane won’t hesitate to kill him if he dares to harass me again.
Ron seems to understand, because he presses his lips to a grim line and crosses his arms over his chest. I can still feel his eyes glaring daggers into the back of my skull as I stride away.
For a moment, I consider calling Dane. I promised I would if I needed his protection.
But I’m with my friends, and we handled the situation. Dane will only be upset if I tell him that I had another creepy interaction with Ron. I don’t want to spoil the euphoria of our new life together in Charleston with any more ugliness.
Besides, Ron isn’t my neighbor anymore. I’m moving into Dane’s house.
Our house.
Ron will never bother me again.
10
DANE
Two weeks later
“We’re going to The Magnolia?” Abigail’s delicately arched brows draw together as I guide her toward the boutique hotel where we had our first date. “I thought you said we’re going to the beach. I’m not dressed for the rooftop bar.”
She gestures at her casual sundress. The straps of her dark purple bikini are visible at her neckline, a tantalizing suggestion of what she’ll look like in the skimpy swimsuit.
I blink the wolfish glint from my eyes and offer her a teasing smile. “We are going to the beach, just not right now. We’re stopping at The Magnolia first.”
“Dane!” she protests, even as she allows me to lead her into the entry hall that’s set up as a small art gallery.
None of the work on display compares to her masterpieces, but her gaze instantly strays to the paintings. Her lovely eyes shine with an awestruck light as she drinks in the art like it’s the most breathtaking thing she’s ever seen.
All qualms about her outfit are forgotten as soon as she loses herself in her artistic nature.
She’s so distracted that she doesn’t notice Stacy practically bounding down the corridor, Franklin hot on her heels. His cheeks are a bit rosy above his neat black moustache—he must’ve started partaking of the Champagne I ordered for them already. And, judging by her giddy energy, Stacy might be a bit tipsy too.