Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 117740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
I pretended not to notice.
It didn’t matter.
“Son, have you ever had a conversation with someone and hours later, realised there was something you should have said?”
I paused, peeling my gaze over to her. “Yes,” I replied slowly. “Why?”
“Ah.” A ghost of a smile passed over her face. “I was just thinking that sometimes, we really do end up regretting the things we never said. The things we should have said. And that’s a shame.”
This bloody woman. Did she always have to have the last word?
Stupid question.
Of course, she did.
She was a woman.
Had I learnt nothing in my life?
“I’ll keep your words in mind,” I said. “Close the door on your way out.”
Mum nodded, doing as I asked as she left.
I groaned, pulling my glasses off again. Honestly, I was just going to leave the fucking things off the way things were going this morning. All I wanted to do was my work, but how was I supposed to focus when all I could think about was Rose?
Taking her to the garden centre had been one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I would never forget the sheer, unbridled happiness or the range of excited expressions she showed as we walked around.
Well, I walked around.
Rose… She skipped. Hopped. Bounced. Danced.
She was crazy.
Crazy beautiful.
I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off her. It was a place she’d surely been a thousand times, yet her eyes had lit up with almost every aisle we walked down. Excitement had practically buzzed off her when she was selecting the things for the nursery, and I’d had the brief thought that I’d buy her the whole garden centre if that was what she wanted.
I sighed, slumping forwards, touching my finger to the spot on my neck where the mark she’d left had all but disappeared. I was one lovesick little fucker.
The worst thing was that I had no idea when I’d fallen so hard for her. I didn’t even know how it was possible I’d done such a thing. All she’d done over the past few weeks was piss me off. She’d done everything possible to get under my skin, and it’d worked.
Except she wasn’t just under my skin.
She was soul-deep. Practically a part of my DNA, a part of the fabric of the cells that made up my very being.
And she hated me.
Hated me.
She’d be happy if we never crossed paths again, and for a moment, I briefly considered it. What if I did what she wanted? What if I just cancelled everything, went back to London, and never set foot in this crazy, close-knit little village ever again?
I could. It’d fuck up all my plans and I’d probably have to go through the planning stages for the house’s maintenance works again, but maybe it would be worth it in the end.
Cancel everything.
What if I…
I shook my head and smacked my cheek. No, that was crazy talk. I couldn’t just flush all my plans down the toilet because of a woman.
Well, I could.
Shit, I could. Rose only hated me because I was closing the allotments. If I cancelled the deal and withdrew the eviction notice, wouldn’t that fix how she felt about me? Even if she didn’t feel the same way I did, I could just leave. My life was in London, after all. I’d never intended to stay in Hanbury long-term.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
I buried my hands in my hair. What was wrong with me? What spell had that lunatic cast on me that I was thinking like this? Was I really considering blowing up all my well-laid plans just so she didn’t hate me anymore? For the tiniest little chance that there was a single cell in her body that might feel something other than utter derision towards me?
Yeah.
Yeah, I was.
I wanted her. I wanted her to want me. I wanted to hold on to her tightly, and I wanted her to grab me back so I couldn’t let her go.
I didn’t want to have to hide the way I looked at her. The way I touched her. The way I felt about her.
But if I tried any of that now, she would probably come at me with a spade or shove one of her chilli peppers in my eye.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialled Luke’s number, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Yes, my lord? How may your humble servant assist you on this fine morning?” he answered.
Why did I keep this idiot on my payroll?
I put the call on speaker. “Hey, do me a favour.”
“I live to serve,” he replied, his voice filling my office.
“Save the serving for the next time you piss off your fiancée,” I suggested. “Can you send me a copy of the draft contract with Ascot Homes?”
There was a pause before he said, “Sure, but why do you want it?”