Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
After he leaves, Mrs. Kenner gives me a knowing look. “Sweet boy, that Noel. Divorced, you know. No children. Works here because he genuinely cares about people, not because he has to.”
“Mrs. Kenner—”
“I’m just saying, dear. A girl could do worse.”
If only she knew I’m already married to a man who sees me as a business transaction. A man who—
“Wednesday?”
I spin around so fast I nearly knock over Mrs. Kenner’s water cup. Gavine stands in the doorway, taking up the entire frame with his imposing presence. He’s wearing dark jeans and a black button-down that makes his gray eyes look almost silver, and seeing him in this cheerful, pastel-decorated room is like watching a panther stroll into a flower shop.
“Gavine.” My voice comes out smaller than I’d like. “What are you doing here?”
His gaze flicks from me to Mrs. Kenner, then toward the direction Noel disappeared. His expression turns cold and sharp. “I came to collect my wife.”
The way he says ‘my wife’ makes Mrs. Kenner’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. I want to disappear into the floor.
“I didn’t know you were married, dear!” Mrs. Kenner looks between us with undisguised curiosity. “And to such a handsome man. Aren’t you lucky?”
If our marriage were real, sure.
But since it’s not...
“We should go,” I say quickly, standing to gather my purse. “I’ll see you Thursday, Mrs. Kenner. We’ll finish chapter twelve.”
“The good parts are in chapter thirteen,” she calls after us with a wicked grin.
Gavine doesn’t speak until we’re in the parking lot, but I can feel tension rolling off him in waves, and he only breaks his silence when we make it to his truck.
“How long have you been coming here?”
“A week.” I fidget with my purse strap. “I saw the sign asking for volunteers when we drove through town last Monday. I thought it would be nice to help.”
He’s quiet for so long I start to think the conversation is over. Then—
“And the man with the guitar?”
There’s an edge to his tone that makes me look up sharply. His jaw is tight, his hands clenched at his sides. He looks angry. But why would he be angry about Noel?
Unless...
No.
That’s impossible.
Gavine couldn’t be jealous.
He’s made it crystal clear that I’m nothing more than a temporary inconvenience.
“Noel is the music therapist,” I explain cautiously. “We just met today.”
“He seemed friendly.”
The words are neutral, but there’s steel underneath them that makes my pulse skip. “He was being polite. We were just talking about books.”
Gavine’s eyes narrow. “Books.”
“Romance novels, actually. Mrs. Kenner likes the steamier ones, and I was reading to her when—why are you looking at me like that?”
His gaze has gone dark and predatory in a way that makes my breath catch. For a moment, I think he might say something, but then his expression shuts down again.
“Get in the truck.”
THE DRIVE BACK TO THE ranch passes in uncomfortable silence. I sneak glances at Gavine’s profile, trying to understand what just happened. His hands grip the steering wheel with unnecessary force, and that muscle in his jaw keeps jumping like it did during our wedding ceremony.
When we finally reach the house, he doesn’t immediately get out. Instead, he sits there staring straight ahead, his breathing slightly uneven.
“Wednesday.”
“Yes?”
He turns to look at me, and the intensity in his gray eyes makes my mouth go dry. “You will not be returning to that place.”
“What?” The word bursts out of me before I can stop it. “But Mrs. Kenner is expecting me on Thursday, and I promised Mr. Davidson I’d help him write a letter to his grandson, and—”
“I said no.”
“I don’t understand,” I say softly, confusion making my voice small. “I’m just reading to the residents and helping with activities. I thought...I thought you’d be happy that I found something useful to do.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Known who?” I blink up at him. “Noel? I told you, we just met today.”
“And he immediately started making conversation with you.”
I can hear something strange in his voice, but I can’t quite identify what it is. “He was being friendly. The staff here is very welcoming to volunteers.”
Gavine’s jaw ticks. “I’m sure they are.”
“I don’t understand why you’re upset,” I whisper, my eyes starting to sting with tears I refuse to let fall. “Am I not allowed to help people? Am I not supposed to talk to anyone?”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I see his expression shift slightly. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter but no less controlled. “You can continue volunteering. But I want to know your schedule.”
Relief floods through me so suddenly my knees almost buckle. “Thank you. I usually go Tuesdays and Thursdays from two to four.”
He nods curtly. “I’ll have Edgar drive you from now on.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary—”
“It wasn’t a request.”
I bite my lip and nod. There’s no point arguing when he uses that tone. At least he’s not forbidding me from going at all.