had to run my numbers this weekend at the latest, or risk having to find a part time job to help me push through December and January.

I pulled up into my regular parking space at the motel, climbed out of my truck and made a quick dash for the office. The winds had begun to slightly pick up, and they had this way of finding their way through every layer of clothing I wore, sending chills up and down my spine.

The office was empty, and I immediately made my way to the coffee pot and turned it on. I waited patiently for the pot to fill, placing my hands against the glass in an effort to warm them a bit, closing my eyes to the pleasurable feeling of heat snaking up my arms and spreading through me.

I looked to the couch on my left, and immediately pictured Chance sitting there, smile on his face while he flipped through decades old magazines strewn across the coffee table.

I shook my head, trying to get rid of the image. It had been almost eight weeks since I had watched that limo drive out of the motel, taking Chance with it. In the time between then and the last time we actually spoke, I had spent more time in bed than I had in my entire life. His absence hurt, and the fact that I had let him go had hurt even more. I had tried my best to act nonchalant about it all, to wear the perfect fake smile that I knew wasn’t fooling anyone, especially Martha, every time I came to the motel. I had tried to ignore the voice inside my head that was begging me to call him, or answer his calls, or at the very least text him back. It had taken a will of steel, and had ripped me from inside like my soul had been put through a shredder.

He had come through for me, though. His lawyers had shown up as promised, and after one or two court sessions, had made damn sure neither Earl nor any member of the Greene family would come anywhere near me again. For good measure, they had even taken a few light hits at the Sheriff, enough to make him a little warier, but not enough to make him hate me.

I texted him when it was over, thanking him for his help and letting him know just how much I appreciated what he did for me. I couldn’t bring myself to call him, knowing well that hearing his voice would mean I would have to go through the same pain it had taken to get over him the first time. He called me, several times, and then left me a simple ‘you’re welcome’ text when I didn’t pick up. I knew I wasn’t being fair to him, that I owed him more than a simple message, but I couldn’t do anything more than that.

But even after two months, although it had definitely become easier, I still couldn’t help but think about him every now and then. What would have happened if I had said yes? Would I have been able to live in Austin? My mother’s voice constantly rang in my mind, sounding disappointed that I had decided to stay behind even when the opportunity to leave came knocking on my door.

What the hell was I supposed to do anyway?

I frowned, angry at my mind for playing tricks on me, for throwing up images of what could have been, just to take them away again. It was cruel, yet at the same time frustrating. I had made the right choice. I know I ha. There was nothing for me in Austin. My entire life was in Ludwig; everyone I knew, everything I was familiar with, my little bubble of comfort in the big bag world. And my plants. My greenhouse. How could I even consider leaving all that I had built behind? How could he ask me to, that bastard?

Is that really what you’re angry about?

It was. It had to be. Because other than that, then there really wasn’t anyone else around to blame for how I felt other than me, and that wouldn’t sit well with me. I had moved on, or at least I thought I had, and Chance was just a memory; not the one who got away, but the one I couldn’t have.

Then again, there might have been a way to make it work.

No!

Or was there?

I shook my head angrily, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, concentrating all my hatred on Chance and what he was doing to me, even when he was miles away. Millionaire playboy who thought he could get whatever he wanted. What the hell was I going to do with a man like him? Bear his children, cook his meals, and be his trophy wife while he fucked airheads right and left?

“You’re early.”

I turned around, surprised that someone had been able to walk into the office without me hearing it. I smiled at Martha as she rubbed her hands together and did a jog-dance around the office.

“It’s getting colder by the day,” she said, blowing air into cupped hands.

“Well, we’re a few days away from November,” I said. “You’d kind of expect it, wouldn’t you?”

“Funny thing, sweetie, is that no matter how old I get, I swear, the winters always get colder,” she chuckled. “Has Chuck come in yet?”

I shook my head. “Haven’t seen him.”

“Mhmm.” Martha walked around the desk and opened the ledger. “That’s just great,” she mumbled.

“What’s wrong?”

“The writer’s spending all of December here,” Martha replied. “There go our Christmas plans. And looks like New Year’s, too.”

“Seriously?” I looked over the desk and at the empty ledger save for one name. “That’s odd.”

“He’d better be writing a masterpiece in there,” Martha commented, rubbing her shoulders to stay warm. “Or else I might just kill him.”

“So what are you going to do?” I asked, pouring myself a mug of coffee and preparing one for her, too.

“What can we do,” Martha shrugged. “Usually, this time of the year, closing down for a month or two doesn’t really affect us. It’s a dead season anyway, and a good chance for me and Chuck to kick back for a while.”

I walked back and slid her mug to her. “Thank you, honey,” she said, taking a sip. “Looks like this year, though, we’re stuck here.”

Tags: Mia Ford Dark Desires Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net