Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
He tosses the towel to the floor before grabbing me. I let out a small scream of surprise as he carries me into the bathroom. He slowly lowers me into a giant tub.
“Relax. I’ll be right back. I’m going to get you a drink.” He gives me a kiss and begins to walk away. Then he stops and gives me another. When it starts to deepen, I can’t help the giggle that comes from me. He can’t stop kissing me for two seconds. Yeah, I think sweet is the word that best describes Nathan when it concerns me. It might not be the way other people see him, though.
“Fuck it,” he says, slipping into the water with me.
“I’m not thirsty. I just want you,” I say between kisses as he sits, and I straddle him.
“You have me,” he says as he pushes inside of me. I do have him, but for how long? The plan was to have this weekend. To not fall in love. The plan was stupid. I was in love with Nathan before we even got here. The only problem is that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep him when we return to the real world.
Fifteen
Dr. Nathan Amherst
“I didn’t know you could cook,” Kayla observes from her perch on the counter, tucked in the corner against the fridge.
“It’s a science,” I tell her, plopping the last of the cookie dough on the sheet and sliding it into the oven. I check the stew and add a little salt. “For cooking it’s the acid to salt ratio, sweetness tempered by the source. For baking it’s starch and fat.”
“I suppose it is.” She gnaws lightly on her lower lip. “I don’t know how to cook. Only Bake.” It’s said quietly, as if she’s confessing to some great sin.
I shrug. “I don’t usually either. It’s too time consuming for one person. Better to order out.”
“But this smells so good. What if you ruin me for takeout food?”
The snow is falling fast and hard, we just rolled out of bed after fucking each other’s brains out, and she’s talking about even her taste buds being ruined by me? I keep my smile to myself, but internally, I can’t help but cheer. Everything is working out great. I swat her ass with the side of my spoon. “Go sit down so I can test out that theory.”
“Only because you ask so nicely.” She rolls her eyes. I like that she’s sassy with me. She doesn’t feel my position over her as threatening. It shouldn’t be since hiring and firing her isn’t my responsibility. The conversation I overhead about Kayla getting the boot if she’s found to be in a relationship with me tickles the back of my brain, but I shove that thought aside. Everything is going to be fine.
Kayla carries bowls and silverware to the table. “Milk, coffee, water?” she asks.
“Milk.”
I heft the stew pot up and set it onto the counter, ladling out portions into the dishes she’s provided. As the steam rises, filling the air with the redolent smell of cooked onion, garlic, and carmelized meat, Kayla inhales. “Ugh, this smells delicious. It’s truly unfair that you’re brilliant, look like a god, and can cook.” She frowns at me. “How is it that you’re still single?”
“How are you still single?” I parry. “You’re brilliant, look like a goddess, and know how to order out.”
“I don’t feel like that last one is a great asset.”
“It is.” She won’t be cutting herself down in front of me. “Tell me about your Christmas traditions. What should we do here since it looks like we’ll be spending several days in the cabin? You have the reindeer food story. What else?” I want to do them all.
“We always had a tree with a big topper. My mom always wanted an angel topper for the Christmas tree but couldn’t find one that she liked. Dad was at a gas station and found one and brought it home. It was hideous.” She lets out a small laugh. “It was so heavy that it nearly made the tree tip over.” The memory puts a sad smile on her face. “Mom hated it at first, but it kind of grew on us all.”
Maybe I shouldn’t do the reindeer food thing. I want her to have new memories but here with me.
She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “How about you? What Christmas traditions do you have?”
“None.” I spoon the stew into my mouth.
“None? Like no Christmas presents on Christmas morning or the Elf on the Shelf?”
“Elf on the Shelf?”
“You’ve never heard of that? It’s a little stuffed elf and you move it around every night as if he’s come to life while you’re sleeping. Mom would have him attached to the kitchen cupboards or one morning I found him on the counter half buried under flour that had spilled out of the container. He looked like he had tried to climb up the side of the ceramic bin and it tipped over.” This time her smile is bright and happy, but inwardly I’m frowning because I didn’t order an Elf on the Shelf. Fuck me. Maybe I could make a pine cone man. Pine cone on the limestone? Doesn’t have the same ring to it, but if the stupid stuffed man makes her happy then I’m getting one.