Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3) Read Online Free PDF

up, but it’s
difficult. I watch him as he moves away. He’s very tall and well built with jet-black
hair that is longer on the top but cropped short on the sides and back. A
cobalt blue shirt hugs his torso, complemented by a black tie. He wears black
pants and no jacket. Under other circumstances, I would probably succumb to his
unusually stunning looks, but right now, I’d like nothing more than to see him
leave.
    I
head back to my perch on the stool at the counter as I wait for him to complete
his inspection. And then I wait. And wait. And wait some more. If one could
sprain one’s gut then that’s how mine would feel, all twisted up in knots and
bruised. My heart suffers as though a piece of barbed wire has been tied around
it. I hear his feet come back down the steps. He hasn’t been in the kitchen
yet, so I sit and hang tight, and seconds later he arrives. He won’t be
displeased. It’s top of the line everything, from the eight-burner Viking range
to the Sub-Zero side-by-side single refrigerator and freezer. My parents spared
no expense on this remodel.
    He
stands there for a moment and then says, “Impressive.”
    I
don’t breathe a word. I can scarcely look at him.
    “There’s
a room upstairs that was locked. Can you give me the key or unlock it, please?”
    I
bite my lower lip. “Yeah. About that.” I clear my throat. I want to say
something, anything, but words escape me.
    “Yes?”
    “I,
uh, …”
    “Do
you have a key, or not?”
    I
get up and woodenly walk up the stairs.
    I’m so sorry Ells. I tried. I really did.
    We
reach the door, and my hand shakes. The keys rattle on the ring. It takes a
couple of stabs before I get the key in the slot. But then I can’t make myself
turn it, so I back away until I hit the wall. He looks at me like I’m nuts. I
suppose I am, to a large degree. But I’m frozen. No one has seen my sanctum.
But now he’s about to and I can barely draw a breath. It’s like my soul is
being clawed out of my body.
    He
steps forward, turns the key, and opens the door. I feel the rush of air from
her room hit my face and the barest hint of her scent seeps into my bones …
that baby smell that still lingers in the air. I slide down the wall until my
butt hits the floor. Voices fill my ears … her bubbly giggle … the pounding of
her tiny bare feet along the wide-planked heart pine floor. Chubby hands
splashing in the tub as she palms the water and it flies up in my face in a
spray, and we both laugh as droplets run off my cheeks and nose. It all will
vanish when this house sells. Her memory … the shrine that I’ve dedicated to
her in her room … plucked away like it never existed.
    My
forehead rests on my knees and I hear the clicking of his heels as they
approach.
    “Ells.
She was your daughter?”
    “Yes.”
My voice is hoarse with emotion.
    “I’m
sorry.”
    I
muster the courage to look at him. His eyes, damn them, are so penetrating, I
feel like he’s probing my soul. He reaches out a hand to help me up so I take
it. It’s warm—a firm grip.
    This
is a long shot, I know, but I have to try.
    “Look,
I don’t want to sell. But I’m forced to. If I sell to you, will you keep Ells’
room like this?”
    “What?”
    “You
heard me. There’s a carriage house out back. It’s fixed up into a one bedroom apartment. I’d like to rent it. If I do, can I
come once a month to see her bedroom?”
    “You’ve
got to be joking.”
    “No.
I’ll do anything you want. Anything .” Then something takes over me. Call
it madness. Desperation. Insanity. Call it whatever you want. I step right up
to him and put my hands on his shoulders. Then I kiss him. He stands there like
a chunk of stone. So I press my body up to him, and rub myself against him. I
open my mouth and run my tongue over his lips, and then push it into his mouth.
Nothing. No response. Humiliation sets in. I am not this girl. I’m the classic
nerd. I don’t have boyfriends. I don’t even date. Where did