Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“You’re so hot, Rowan,” I whisper to myself with glee, but as I’m about to undress, my phone pings, and I grin at the sight of Saint’s name in the message.
[Do you have work tomorrow? - Saint]
Really? He can’t get enough of me so much he wants another date tomorrow? I might just have to put my hair in pigtails, because I’m feeling like a schoolgirl with her first crush.
[I’m free. You?] I write back.
[Join me outside?] Saint answers, and my cheeks burn as I spin on my heel and head for the door. When I peek out into the corridor, he’s sitting on a blanket in front of my apartment, and there’s a tray of crackers, and wine resting right next to him. He even lit a few tiny candles to illuminate the space for us.
I’m speechless when he offers me a smile. “I don’t really want this date to be over yet, and you did say you don’t want the night to end…”
This is not only sweet and thoughtful, but also shows that he’s okay with my weird-ass phobia. He’s willing to lean into what I need, and even make it fun. I grab my jacket, because the corridor is a bit chilly, and with my heart fluttering out of control, I sit down next to him.
But if he’s leaning into me, I need to put in the effort too. Maybe we could actually have another date in the hallway of his apartment and gradually move farther from the safety of the public space, until I start feeling comfortable being with him behind closed doors? Because I’m not losing my virginity in a corridor.
“This is… amazing.” I’m a dumbass. I met him today, and I’m already falling for him. “Who needs sleep, right?”
His hand closes on mine. “Not me.”
Chapter 8
Rowan
I barely slept last night yet couldn’t be happier. I’m walking on clouds, wrapped in Saint’s scarf, and I never felt more special. It’s as if finally something good is happening in my life. Making out in the corridor by candlelight has to be the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to anyone.
I refuse to question why Saint chose me. He might be more classically handsome than me, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take interest in me! Our connection feels strong even though we’ve just met, but things like that happen sometimes, so why not to me? Our conversations flow, the sexual tension is off the charts, and it turns out we have more similarities than I would have ever imagined.
He also likes horror movies, he wants to go hunting with me, he’s been on his own since his uncle died, and he isn’t tied down anywhere, so he could stay in Rosehill Pines as long as he wants. Or I could leave, because nothing’s keeping me here.
I haven’t considered my future in a while, but today, I feel as though the world is my oyster.
Many would say I’m getting ahead of myself, but our connection feels right, and I would be an idiot if I didn’t give it a fair chance. We’ve already kind-of planned to spend Christmas together, since neither of us has any family, and for the first time in years, I’m actually excited for the twenty-fifth.
I’m running a few errands since it’s my day off, but I can’t wait to be back home in the hope that he’s available to meet up, since his job allows so much flexibility. He teased me that he’s not ready to reveal his pen name, but it only makes me wonder if he isn’t some big name author.
It’s slowly getting darker as I pass a French bakery, which is far too fancy for my wallet. I stop by the window, because Saint told me how much he loves gingerbread and there’s gingerbread cheesecake on offer. I wouldn’t buy it for myself, but to hell with budgeting. That beautiful man deserves the best, and since he’s such a foodie, he’ll appreciate fancy dessert.
I leave the shop shocked by the amount of money I needed to part with to get just three pieces of cake, but it would be worth it, and by the time I reach my floor, a smile sits firmly on my face. I’m tempted to knock on Saint’s door and surprise him, but there’s someone else I want to pay a brief visit to, so I make my way to Mrs. Treville’s apartment and ring her bell.
I shake my head when I hear the chain rattle on the other side, because it would be safer for her to first ask who is at the door. Otherwise, what is the chain for?
But I won’t be chastising a woman in her seventies and smile as soon as I see her. “Hello, hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
The scent of stew invites me in, but I have no intention of crossing the threshold when she’s also there, as unreasonable as that is. “I was just making lunch. How are you, Rowan?” she asks, adjusting her red apron.