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I scowl at the onlookers until they turn around, looking alarmed, but the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach doesn’t go away, not even once I’ve bought Ariana and me a cherry pie and left the bakery with her by my side. On the way back to my truck, there’s another stare. Another look in Ariana’s direction. A guy across the street actually stops in his tracks to look at us, and my fists clench. Rage is bubbling over inside me, and I’m about to give him a piece of my mind when Ariana says, “There!”
She’s pointing to an empty premises next to Mountain Brew.
“What?” I ask, forcing myself to turn away from the man.
“That’s where I want to have my bookstore one day,” she says brightly. “It’s the perfect location. And I love the building—it’s so cute!”
I try to smile, but my face won’t oblige. All I can think about is how Ariana deserves better than to be stuck with a lumbering brute like me. She deserves better than somebody who can’t leave the damn house without being stared at like a freak. She’s only twenty-two with her whole life ahead of her, and the last thing she needs is to be tied up with some middle-aged lumberjack who will only bring her down.
Fuck.
From the minute I saw Ariana, I knew she was too good for me. Young and sweet—an angel with a smile like sunshine. But I was selfish. Weak. I wanted her so fucking badly, and I gave in to my desires, even though it wasn’t the best thing for her. It was so easy to lose myself in the happiness of last night, but in the cold light of day, I’m reminded of all the reasons I should have stayed away.
“Your bookstore will be amazing,” I say, my voice hoarse.
Ariana looks away from the empty store and at me, frowning. “Are you okay?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak again.
“Are you sure?” She gnaws on her lip. “You sound upset.”
My head is swirling with thoughts, a dull ache forming behind my eyes. There are a million things I want to tell Ariana. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, with the kindest heart and the sweetest nature. A dream come true. Everything I’ve ever wanted.
And I’m not enough for her.
Never was; never can be.
Because no matter how I feel about Ariana—no matter how much I care—one fact remains:
She deserves better than a beast.
10
ARIANA
Duke assures me he’s fine as we drive back to his cabin, but there’s a faraway look in his eyes, a distance that wasn’t there before. Worry settles in my gut, and when we finally sit down in his living room to eat our cherry pie, the sweetness turns to glue in my mouth.
Did I say something wrong?
Does he regret what happened between us?
Even Scout seems to notice Duke’s bad mood. She nuzzles her head against his leg, and I watch as he pats her absent-mindedly without looking down.
“I better get back to work on your bookcase,” he says after a strained silence falls between us.
He gets up from the table and finally, his eyes meet mine. It’s the first time he’s met my gaze since we left the bakery. He opens his mouth, about to say something, but seems to think better of it.
“Can I do anything to help with the bookcase?” I ask, my stomach sinking as Duke heads for the front door.
“No, it’s okay. Should only take another hour or two.” He hovers in the doorway, his back to me. “There are some of my dad’s old books in the bedroom if you want something to pass the time. Second door on the left.”
Then he heads to his workshop without asking me to join him.
Without looking back.
I stare numbly at the closed door, listening to the banging and grinding of wood as Duke gets to work.
Everything feels like it’s slipping away. Last night was the happiest night of my life, and now the man who took my virginity can’t even bear to look at me. Tears sting in my eyes, my throat clogging with emotion, and I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm myself.
