When I'm Gone (Rosemary Beach #11)

“Yes. He can.”


She let out a small laugh, then covered her mouth as a sob broke free. I wasn’t sure if I should comfort her or wait it out, but then she stood up and launched herself at me. Her arms circled my neck as she slammed against me. All that cinnamon sweetness engulfed my senses. “Thank you . . . I don’t even know . . . that’s not even enough. I can’t find the right words. But just . . . thank you,” she said, as she let out another sob, still holding on tightly to me.

I gently wrapped my arms around her and tried like hell not to think about how good her tits felt pressed up against me. She was emotional and thanking me; I was not going to take advantage of this. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re willing to do this. I think you’re bound for great things, Reese. You just needed someone to give you a lift up.”

She pulled back to look at me and give me a watery smile, then buried her forehead in my chest. “I can’t believe you. I don’t know why you wanted to help me or what I did to deserve this. I woke you up singing, and I know my singing is horrible and was probably very loud. And I broke your mirror and made a mess that I haven’t even cleaned up yet, and I bled on you. I just don’t know why all that led to you doing something like this for me. But thank you.” She barely stopped for a breath as she let out all her feelings against my chest.

Smiling, I reached out and touched her hair. I had been fighting the urge since I’d walked in and seen that it was down. Just as I’d imagined, it was silky. “You broke my sister’s mirror, and I don’t much care for Nan. Besides, she can afford to replace it. You never bled on me, just the floor, and I’ve cleaned up that mess. It’s long gone. As for your singing, yes, it’s horrible. But there’s something about you, Reese, that makes me want to ease that lost look in your eyes.”

She went very still in my arms, then loosened her hold on me and pulled back to look at me before she unlatched herself from around my neck and moved away, but only by a few inches. A grin tugged at her lips. “My singing is horrible, isn’t it?” Then she laughed. “God, I was so embarrassed when I turned around and saw you standing there.” She shook her head. “I can cook better than I sing. I promise. Can I make you dinner tonight? I want to do something for you.”

Never had I been upset about getting new horses to board. I liked money, and I needed horses to keep the ranch running. But damned if I wasn’t resenting them right about now. “I have to go,” I told her.

The light in her eyes dimmed but only for a moment. “That’s right. You have to get back to Texas. I forgot.”

I nodded. “I have to get to the airport right away.”

I stood up, and she backed away, giving us more space. I didn’t want her to back up. She took that cinnamon and sugar smell with her.

“Dr. Munroe has your number, but here is his contact information. Call him. He’s expecting you to call him. He will only call you if you don’t.”

She took the paper in my hand and nodded. “I will. Today,” she replied.

“Good.” I needed to leave, but here I stood, staring at her.

“Thank you, again. Really. I may say this a million more times.” Her eyes were bright with new unshed tears.

“You don’t have to do that. But I’d like for you to call me after your meeting with him. I will be curious about how things go. Keep me updated.”

She beamed at me. “Yes. I can do that.”

With one last look at her, I headed for the door. I had to get out of here before I reached out and pulled that shiny hair back over to me so I could smell her cinnamon scent and get tangled in all those silky locks.

“Be careful,” she called out to me.

I opened her door, then glanced back at her and winked. “Always.”

Reese

My double date had to be postponed. We had set it for Thursday, but Thursday was the first evening that I could meet with Dr. Munroe. I thought about calling Mase and telling him that I had called the professor and set up my first meeting, but he had said to call him after my meeting. I didn’t want to bug him.

So instead, I stared at the photo of his boots a lot on my phone.

Abbi Glines's books