Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
She lost her brother…and I didn't even know.
Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me? Ha. Do I even have to ask? They thought they were protecting her from me after I left like I did. I didn't deserve to know anything about her. I wasn't worthy of her.
It hurts like hell to know they were right. I wasn't worthy of her. Hell, maybe I'm still not. But…I'll fight like hell to be that man if she'll let me. Even if it changes nothing and she still hates me in the end, I owe her every ounce of fight I have.
"I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry, Paisley." It doesn't matter how many times I say it, it won't be enough. It'll never be enough. She deserves more than words. If I have to fucking grovel on my knees for forgiveness, I'll do it. Whatever it takes to prove to her that I mean it.
"I don't want to fight anymore, Ridley," she whispers in response, craning her head to look up at me.
"What do you want, Dimples?" I rest my forehead against hers. "Whatever it is, I'll give it to you. Anything. You deserve that from me, baby. Christ, you've deserved it for the last three years. I'm so fucking sorry."
"I want…more wine."
I blink at her, surprised by the simple request. "You want more wine?"
"Definitely." Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, her gaze flickering across my face. "Do you…um…do you want to have dinner with me?"
"Yeah. Fuck, yeah."
Her lips curve into a tiny, hopeful smile. And then her brows furrow, worry filtering through her expression. "As friends," she says. "Just as friends."
That's not even remotely close to what I want, but it's a start.
"Deal," I murmur.
"You really didn't have to cook for me," she says an hour later as I place a plate on the small table in front of her. "I would have cooked."
"It's all good, Dimples," I murmur, sliding into the seat across from her. "I enjoy cooking."
"That's different." She glances from her plate to me, her brows furrowed. "You used to hate it."
"That was before Italy. It's impossible to live in a country known for its food without learning a thing or two."
"Well, it looks amazing."
"Thank you." I wink at her before picking up my fork. Lucy must have stocked Paisley's fridge before she got here because it had everything I needed to make pesto chicken, garlic bread, and salad.
She cuts off a bite of chicken and pops it into her mouth before blinking at me. "Holy shit." Her fingers hover in front of her lips. "That's really good."
"Told you I learned a thing or two," I say, grinning.
"Uh, clearly!"
I laugh softly, watching as she cuts another bite before popping it into her mouth with relish. And then I have to readjust in my seat because my fucking pants are getting tight. She's gorgeous every minute of the day, but there's something downright sexy about watching her enjoy food I made for her.
Friends. Just friends, I remind myself. It doesn't help, not when she takes a bite of bread and moans.
I want to be the thing in her mouth, making her moan like that.
"Lucy said you finished law school a few months ago," I say, grasping for anything to keep my mind off how much I'd like to place her on my plate and eat her instead of the chicken.
"I did. Even passed the bar exam last month."
"Good girl." I take a sip of wine before setting my glass down. "What's next?"
"I was just offered a position at Crudup in Los Angeles," she murmurs, dabbing her lips with a napkin.
I arch a brow, impressed. "That's the big leagues, Dimples. Impressive."
She shrugs like it's no big deal. "It's good money, but it's not really what I want."
"What do you want?"
Her gaze drifts to me and then away so quickly I would have missed it if I weren't hyper-focused on every move she makes. "I'd like to get hired on in the prosecutor's office somewhere. That's where my dad and grandpa both started out."
"You want to follow in their footsteps?"
"Somewhat," she murmurs. "I don't have judgeship aspirations, but I want to help victims, not perpetrators. The best place to do that is as a prosecutor."
"Any area in particular?"
She shrugs, glancing away from me. "I'd like to stay close to Lucy. That probably sounds silly. We're both adults. We can't be joined at the hip forever, but…"
"But she's your best friend."
"Yeah," she says, her voice soft as she tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Even though we were only three hours away from each other, I feel like I've already missed so much of my nieces' lives. And now Oliver and Lucy are having another baby. I don't want to be an absentee godparent."
"Ouch," I murmur.
Paisley grimaces, her gaze flitting to mine. "I'm sorry. I wasn't talking about you."