Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
“Fucker,” Dane mutters, in his sexy alpha way. Even when he’s angry, I don’t fear him. It’s controlled, confident and safe unlike the anger I remember from the rest of my life.
I focus hard on the rushing landscape through the window, trying to escape the bindings of fear in my stomach and heart. The squeak-squeak of the windshield wipers. The fog on the side windows. The meticulously clean interior of Dane’s SUV. I was once at a car wash with Judith and I remember seeing the nicest package was called Q-Tip Clean. It’s like that. Perfect. Immaculate.
But that memory drags me right back to where I don’t want to be. To the past. To Judith. To a time when I didn’t have to pretend that I didn’t know my own name.
Dane’s big hand grips my thigh. “You good, Baby?”
Ripples of water tumble off the side-view mirrors. “Yes, I am. Just a long day. Your dad is wonderful. It was so nice to get a chance to meet him. We just…not a lot of sleep, you know?”
“That lady, you didn’t know her?”
I shake my head, a sourness turning my stomach as I lie. “No. I have no idea who Primrose is or why she called me that. Maybe she lived there, early dementia sort of deal, thought I was someone from her past.”
Dane smiles, not looking away from the road. “Okay. Yes and you were amazing. I can’t wait for you to be a part of our life.”
I smile and nod and say the right words. But the idea of anybody getting to know me better is terrifying.
Squeak-squeak go the wipers. Tick-tock goes the time before someone figures me out.
Emily.
Primrose.
Fuck. I’m going to ruin everything.
Soon enough, we leave the highway, and meander our way through back roads and routes back to Dane’s house. As soon as it comes into view, I’m filled with a warm wave of calm. The locked gate closes automatically as we pass through, and I finally let myself take a breath.
I reach out for Dane’s hand and give it a squeeze. He glances my way and hits me with a dreamy wink.
He pulls up around back and into the garage. “Don’t you dare open that door,” he says.
I press my hands into my lap, blushing. All this gentlemanly chivalry will take a long time to get used to. “Okay.”
“Good girl.”
God.
He walks around to my side of the SUV, opens the door, but then blocks me from getting out. He leans in, brings his big palm to my cheek, nudging my nose with his.
With his other hand, he drags me to the edge of the leather bucket seat, so that my legs are parted around him. I feel him rock-hard pressing against my pelvis. And I sigh into the kiss.
Tentatively, I reach for his belt. He nods a little into the kiss and I follow his instruction.
But just as I’m about to slip the leather from the steel buckle, the sound of the door to the mud room makes my eyes pop open.
“Mr. Philipe!” Ethel barks. “We need to talk!”
Dane pulls away, irritated. “Christ, Ethel. Your timing is fucking shitty.”
“I know, sir. And I apologize. But this is important,” she retreats, swiveling her hard eyes toward me.
“Go on, then,” Dane exhales with a growl. “Whatever you need to say to me you can say to us both.”
Ethel hesitates then, and that hesitation makes my heart drop. It makes me realize, instantly, that whatever it is, it’s about me.
Me.
Primrose-me?
Or Emily-me? That me? Or this me? Or neither? Or both?
My whole body goes cold and still.
“The agency called,” Ethel’s voice is full of superiority. That sort of ‘fuck you’ tone. “They were surprised they hadn’t heard from us sooner, given that we’ve been without a housekeeper for a month. Apparently, but the girl they sent, never came here. She contacted them today, apologizing, asking for another chance for the position…”
Dane turns to me, with dawning understanding in his eyes.
My heart goes into free-fall.
“If you’re not the girl from the agency, then who are you?”
I grimace, almost without meaning to. And then stammer, “I’m… see, I’m…”
“You’re Primrose, aren’t you? Like the woman said earlier?” The emotion in his voice says I’ve betrayed him already. Oh God. Not this. Anything but this.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“So who the hell is Primrose?”
Ethel leaves us alone in the garage, and I let my eyes glide over the meticulously organized and labeled storage bins on sturdy wooden shelves that go from floor to ceiling. Not a bin out of kilter, not an object out of place.
It is all so much the opposite of me and my life. Pure chaos, from the beginning.
I push my fingernails hard into my palms and look up at Dane. His eyes are narrow with distrust, with skepticism. And who can blame him?
The best way is all at once. 1-2-3…“That day that I met you, I was running away. I picked up the phone number in a diner when I overheard the other girl say she wasn’t coming to take the job. I pretended to be her.”