Page 90 of Beautiful Distraction

“Your job?”

“What?” I laugh and shake my head. “No.”

“What about your home?”

“God, no. My bedroom’s as small as a closet. It’s seriouslycrammed. But if you’re talking about my family…” I shrug. “They’re constantlytraveling, barely calling. I rarely see them. I think it’s safe to say that I’mcloser to my neighbors. You?”

“Me?” His lips twitch. “What about me?”

“Do you miss the city?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, turning his eyes back to thelake. “Not at all.”

“Not even your car?”

He shrugs. “Money can’t buy you everything.”

I nod and let out a small sigh. “Maybe, but money can makeyour life easier. Aloteasier.”

He remains silent for a while.

“That’s true,” he says at last. “But it doesn’t buy youhappiness, nor does it make your life less complicated, or less of a mess. Itsure hasn’t made mine.”

And here it is again—a hint of his past withoutrevealing too much.

But his tone is different, as though he wants to talk butjust can’t. As though opening up to someone doesn’t come easily to him, butmaybe, just maybe, he feels as though opening up to me may be a possibility inthe future.

The past few days, I’ve been wondering what’s happening tohim. It’s hard to believe that Kellan Boyd is the same man I met three monthsago. The arrogance is still here, and the confidence, and as before, he exudesraw sex, but something is missing.

I cannot pinpoint what it is.

It’s as if one part of him died. But what part?

There is the cowboy, wild at heart, loving the country andhis family.

And there is the rich, superficial guy with the expensivecar, who is more concerned with sex and appearance than with humanrelationships.

Who is he?

It’s the one question that keeps haunting me. Kellan keepsdenying that he’s involved with Club 69. He’s adamant that he’s a silentshareholder and nothing more. I want to believe him, and yet I cannot. BecauseI have no idea what he really does.

Sure, he seems to know how to take care of a farm, but I’mnot stupid enough to believe that a bit of livestock can earn him enough moneyto buy a Lamborghini and wear tailored clothes.

Just like the lake in front of me, Kellan is still as muchof a mystery to me as the day I arrived, and I have no idea how to get to thetruth without being pushy.

I have tried to get him to open up by confiding things Iwould never have told a stranger, like about my parents and their expectationsof me. I have tried to be patient—all to no avail.

He is a closed book, revealing little, if anything, whileasking questions about my life.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

I grow silent as I pry my eyes away from his stunning lips.“Just life, you know. What you said about happiness.”

“It’s the country,” he whispers. “That’s why I love it here.Everything is still. It’s as if time has stopped. Don’t you think?”

I turn to him, eyeing him again. “Yeah. It’s probably thepart I’ll miss the most.” I didn’t mean to be so honest, but the words are outbefore I can stop them.

“Not me?” he asks, brows raised.

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