Page 98 of Scribe

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I’m hurt. I still don’t understand why someone would do that. I’m also angry because someone could be so callous and do that to another person. I’ve never been a vindictive person, but I want this person punished. Mainly, I just want it to go away.”

“Oh, I can promise you we will punish whoever it was.”

“Scribe, I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

“You didn’t get me into anything I didn’t want to be in. While I would have preferred our time in the hot springs to stay private, I’m not ashamed of anything. I loved every minute, and when the dust settles, you can bet your sweet ass I will have you in that water again.”

I blushed at that.

I wouldn’t mind taking a dip with him again.

It was invigorating, almost liberating, being out in the open, communing with nature.

“Henley,” he firmly said, squeezing my hand gently. “I want you to know I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. I think you are perfect just the way you are, and I love the fact that you read erotic books online. That’s fucking cool as hell.”

“Yeah, real cool,” I snarked. “Look what happened.”

“Princess, you have every right to live your life as you want. Just because someone can’t handle it, doesn’t give them the right to do what they did.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“You ready to go home?”

“Is King mad I left?”

Scribe laughed. “Oh, I would say he’s beyond mad. Honestly, I don’t think there is a description in the dictionary that describes how he is feeling right now.”

“Then I think I’ll stay here.” I smirked.

“Not a chance in hell,” he growled. “Now, what did the doc say? How long before you can take those plastic covers off?”

“Tomorrow,” I admitted. “I have to go in for a follow-up tomorrow afternoon, to make sure everything looks good. Then Dr. Powell said I’ll have to wear special sunglasses for about a week.”

“I wish you would have told me about the surgery. I would have liked to come with you.”

“It’s something I needed to do on my own. I’ve been putting this off for so long, I feared I’d never get up the nerve to do it. But with everything happening, something inside me snapped. I am tired of everyone’s comments, sly looks and stuff. If I’m going to be ridiculed for doing what I want, then I want to be able to look everyone head-on.”

“Sounds fair to me, but, baby, you’re not alone anymore. If someone comes at you, I’ll be by your side.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Good,” he said, then added as I felt him move off the bed, “As much as I’d love to stay here and take advantage of your helpless state, we really need to get back up the mountain before the storm hits.”

“What storm?”

“The one about to dump a crap ton of snow.”

The wind was howling as I listened to the wipers swish back and forth furiously against the windshield of Scribe’s truck. I could only imagine how bad it was, considering it felt as if Scribe was driving at a snail’s pace. I’d lived in these mountains my whole life and it never failed to amaze me the amount of snow that could fall out of nowhere. One minute the skies would be clear, and the next, it would snow for days.

They didn’t call our little part of the world one of America’s best winter wonderlands for nothing. Rosewood was a veritable Norman Rockwell painting during the holiday season. Everything you could imagine, from winter ski trails, toboggan races, to a genuine sleighride through the mountains with roasted chestnuts and hot chocolate to keep you warm. When I was younger, I wondered if Santa Claus lived nearby, because it sure felt like it sometimes.

“What are winters like in Texas?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“Warm.”

I snickered at that. “You don’t like the cold much, do you?”

“It’s not so much the cold, because it gets cold in Texas. It’s the cold wet snow I don’t much care for. Pretty to look at, but after a while it gets boring.”

---