Page 18 of Mine

For a month.

I tilted my head back, eyes on the stained ceiling tile above me, and let out a breath that sounded more like a whimper. What was I thinking? What would my dad think?

Would anyone actually believe that West rode into Harmony Haven, locked eyes with me, and just fell in love? That we got married overnight and I wasn’t somehow the villain in the story?

They might believe he was dramatic enough to do it, but me? They’d see the ring, the money, the headlines, and jump to one conclusion: I was a gold-digging whore. The kind of girl who cashed in on money and good looks.

Which is exactly why I agreed in the first place, my mind taunted and my stomach twisted. My life hadn’t been easy since my mom and sister rode out of town for a new life without me, ormy dad. They opened credit cards in my name, took everything my dad had in his retirement plan, and I’d been working my ass off since I was old enough, just to pay off the debt that they created.

But I had to tell West no. I had to back out. Change my mind. Undo this mess before it got any deeper.

Grabbing the edge of the desk, I halted the spin, the rubber wheels giving a small screech on the floor. I reached for my phone, thumb hovering over the screen to check if West had texted.

Nothing.

Except… He didn’t need to text. Because he was already there. Leaning against the office door frame. He stood with his arms crossed, one ankle tucked over the other, a smile tugging at his mouth like he’d caught me doing something cute.

God, why did he have to look like that? Hair perfectly tousled, sleeves rolled up to show off forearms that could’ve sold tickets. If sin had a spokesperson, it was West Brooks in business casual.

“Having fun?” he asked, his smirk smug as hell.

“More like panicking,” I admitted, exhaling hard.

“Surely not because of me.”

“Absolutely because of you,” I laughed, then immediately clutched the arms of the chair as it tried to spin again. “I was just talking myself out of everything… again.”

“Too late,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and stalking into the room. He placed both fists on the desk and leaned over until his face was entirely too close to mine. “You’re mine.”

“For a month,” I reminded him, my voice a little breathless.

His grin deepened. He didn’t correct me, just tilted his head probably mentally counting the ways he could make thirty days feel like forever.

“Come to Atlanta with me tonight,” he said, like he was inviting me to dinner and not life-altering chaos. “We’ll go over everything including the ground rules and logistics. I’ll have you back here in time for your next shift on Tuesday”

I blinked at him. “I can’t just go. I take care of my dad.”

That gave him pause. He stood straight again, hands leaving the desk as he processed that speed bump. But instead of retreating or rolling his eyes the way most men would be, he nodded slowly.

You will have to be available to come with me when needed,” he said carefully. “What do we need to do to make that happen?”

“What?” I coughed, completely thrown.

“Where is he? Does he need a nurse? Does he need care?”

“He’s at home,” I seethed. “He’s everything to me. And while he is fairly independent, he’s in a wheelchair. I can’t just take off without notice.”

“What’s he do when you’re at work?”

“We have a part time nurse, but that is all I can afford. And she doesn’t fucking do much.”

“Perks of being married to me is you have access to everything I have. Money isn’t an obstacle right now, Blue.”

It should’ve sounded sweet. Helpful. Supportive. But it rubbed me the wrong way, as if he’d just put a bow on my life and called it his donation to the poor.

“I’ll take care of everything,” I said tightly. “I don’t need anything from you except your word that when this ends, I get to keep Fiddlers.”

“You will,” he nodded. “I’m having the contract written up now. You’ll need to come to my office in Atlanta to sign it. It’s basically a prenup, and it'll outline everything clearly.”