Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
No indention.
No precious metal.
No serious relationships or entanglements. I attempt but fail to reassure myself after being called Loch’s “unfinished business.” I’m not sure which switch I hit, but I prefer the nice guy from the hospital this morning over this version.
“Guess I got my goodbye.” I turn my back on him and start walking toward the elevators.
The sound of shoes echoing off the floors reaches me just before he does. “I have a favor to ask.”
“And there it is . . .” I knew he was too good to be true.
“There is what?”
“No one does anything out of the kindness of their heart.” He’s like every other guy out there. I roll my eyes. Here we go . . . “What’s the favor?” I ask too short to hide my annoyance. Left in suspense, I look away from him and cross my arms over my chest. I finally turn back to him with a cocked eyebrow. “Well?”
“I’ve upset you.”
“Nothing ever comes without strings attached.” It’s interesting that this is my natural response. Was I a cynic or someone who understood the way the world works?
“There are no strings. You can refuse the favor, and you’ll owe me nothing in return.” Taking a step back, he says, “You know what? I was out of line for even thinking this was appropriate. Best of luck, Tuesday.”
Loch leaves me stunned when he walks away so fast that I don’t have a chance to say anything. He pushes through the door to the outside. This goodbye feels final.
I hate it.
I might hate myself more for letting it happen, so I rush to the door and land on the sidewalk just as he climbs into the back of the SUV. Why do I now feel like I owe him an apology? “Loch? Wait.”
He looks at me before the momentum of the door forces it closed. The window rolls down, and he doesn’t give me the courtesy of saying a word.
With nothing to lose, I ask, “What’s the favor?”
A victorious smirk slides into place, and I already regret asking. The man knows how to own every inch of his body and sports it confidently by resting his elbow on the door. “The hotel will close the bill, but they won’t know the ending to the story.”
“Is that what I am to you, Loch Westcott? A cliffhanger in your book? Unfinished business.” At least he has the inclination to look a little ashamed when he looks down, and I spy the minutest of headshakes.
His eyes find mine, and he says, “I shouldn’t have said that. My apologies.”
I have a feeling he isn’t one to make apologies, so I take it for what it’s worth. “Okay.” With everything going on in my life, finding him attractive isn’t at the top of my to-dos. Good or bad, I do. “But what are you asking?”
“Let me know what happens.”
I stand there steady on my feet for the first time since I got out of that hospital bed this morning and nod. He’s given me a lot. This is the least I can do for him. “I will.”
I step back from the curb, ready for that hot bath upstairs. “Take care.”
“You too, Ms. Westcott.”
My brow rises as I stare at this stupidly handsome and moody man. “Why do I suddenly feel like I just sold my soul to the devil?”
“Maybe you did.”
He smirks.
I roll my eyes, then turn around before he can see me smile.
The doorman opens it wide, but before I step through, I hear, “Hey, Tuesday?”
I give in and turn back. “Yes?” My voice lilts in hope. Hope for what? Ugh. Damn him.
“It suits you.”
Angling back, I cross my arms over my chest again, knowing he can’t be talking about the hospital gown. “What suits me?”
“The name.”
“Tuesday?” I shrug. “It will have to do.”
He chuckles lightly. I hate that I enjoy the sound of his laughter. “Westcott.” He winks and then rolls up the window, and the SUV pulls away from the hotel, giving him the last word.
Do I feel cheated out of a comeback or flattered by the compliment?
With him? Both.
The nurse told me to be careful and to trust my instincts, but with Loch, he left me more uncertain than I was at the shelter. Do I think he intends to harm me? No. There’s still a strong possibility of getting hurt anyway.
I shouldn’t rely on him because I’m taking the risk of losing more than I’ve already lost by placing my trust in the one person who’s helped me the most.
Loch Westcott.
6
Tuesday
Slipping my arms into the hotel robe, I tighten the belt as I hurry from the bathroom to answer the door. I peek through the hole first. “Who is it?”
“Delivery for Ms. Westcott.”
Nervousness claws at my chest as I’m unsure of what to expect. I know what Loch sent, but I’m still uncertain of what to take from this situation. I unlock the chain and turn the bolt. When I open the door, a uniformed valet has Nordstrom bags draped on his arms. He asks, “Would you like me to bring them inside?”