Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 58952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
He nodded. “And what about your grandparents? Are they still around?”
She’d been expecting him to ask about Ashley being involved with her ex, but he surprised her by not broaching that subject yet. At some point she’d have to give him the details so he understood the situation, but she was grateful to talk about something else while they ate.
“My grandparents on my father’s side have both passed, along with my grandma on my mother’s side. But my gramps is still going strong at eighty-three, though he did just recently have a stroke.”
Chase met her gaze, his own kind and caring. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Yeah, he’s pretty damn tough.” Despite knowing that her gramps was good, she still felt a lump form in her throat that she had to swallow back. “I adore him, honestly. Ever since I was a little girl, we’ve been super close, and growing up I used to spend all my free time on my grandparents’ farm.”
“Your sister, too?” he asked.
She shook her head and cast a glance at Chase, who was still eating his dinner, but his attention was focused on her and what she was telling him. “My sister and I were complete opposites and we didn’t spend much time together. She was the beauty queen and I was the tomboy. She liked frilly dresses, dolls, and tea parties, and I loved fishing with Gramps, riding horses, milking cows, and collecting eggs from the hen house. More times than not, I came home smelling like a farm, with muck all over my clothes, which my sister hated. Ashley grew up in the pageant circuit, always immaculately dressed and perfectly put together, while I went rock climbing and rode my bike through the mud and wore my scrapes and bruises like a badge of honor.”
He chuckled in amusement, which was the last thing she’d expected him to do when she’d just painted a very vivid picture of how different she and her sister were. And how Ashley was clearly the more glamorous of the two of them.
“Damn,” he said, placing his fork on his empty plate. “So, you’ve always been feisty and independent, and basically not giving a shit what others think?”
She secretly loved that’s what he’d taken away from what she’d divulged, and found herself grinning. “Go ahead and add stubborn and determined to the mix, too.”
He smirked. “Oh, yeah, I saw that for myself firsthand.”
It wasn’t a dig or said with criticism, which told her how far they’d come in such a very short time since the evening she’d purchased him at the bachelor auction, then their confrontation in his office. He was so much more relaxed now, and while she sensed that he was still very emotionally guarded, there was no more strain between them, or with their conversation.
She decided to take advantage of that and switched the spotlight onto Chase, eager to learn more about him.
“Okay, your turn to give me the rundown on your family.”
She didn’t miss the way he visibly tensed, or the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat before he responded in a cool tone. “There’s not much to tell. Both of my parents are gone, and you know that Billie is my half-sister. That’s the extent of my family.”
His reply didn’t invite further discussion, but that didn’t stop her from prying a bit more. “Did you have a close relationship with your parents?”
He laughed bitterly. “No.”
End of conversation, his tone said, but hadn’t they just agreed that she was stubborn and determined? Chase was clearly a man who held his cards close, but Billie had given her enough bits and pieces about this man to pique her interest. He was such an enigma, and she found herself wanting to know everything about him and what had happened in his past to mold him into the man he was today. One who didn’t let other people in, or too close, according to Billie.
She knew what she was about to ask was risky, but she did it anyway. “Earlier, when I asked if you watched The Andy Griffith Show and Gunsmoke with your dad, what did you mean when you said that you didn’t have much of a choice?”
His jaw clenched and his fingers tightened on the stem of his wineglass, as if she’d hit some kind of nerve. He turned his head, and when he met her gaze, there was unmistakable anger glimmering there—at her for prodding, or at the memories she was forcing him to relive, she wasn’t sure.
Finally, he spoke. “Unlike you, I didn’t have a charmed childhood,” he said, and while his words were blunt, his tone wasn’t hurtful or mean, but rather painfully honest. “My mother left my father and me when I was seven years old and ran off with another man. And my father stopped giving a damn about anything after that, including me. He fell into a dark depression. He lost his job and sat in his recliner drinking beer all fucking day long feeling sorry for himself, and yes, he watched those shows over and over and over. That’s all we fucking did.”