Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“And I think you have no idea how breathtaking you are. But I plan to remind you often.” I duck my head to try and hide my blush. He makes me feel like a schoolgirl with a crush I can’t control.
“I did have fun tonight. I don’t want you to think otherwise,” I tell him as he drives us back towards my grandma’s estate. “All of this can be a lot to take in sometimes.”
He reaches over, grabbing my hand. His fingers tangle with mine. “We have all the time in the world.”
Do we? I’m not sure if that's true. My grandma found me in a very lonely part of my life. I've been doing a balancing act of how close I want to be with her. It’s not that I don’t want to. The fear of loving someone and losing them again terrifies me. I’m not sure I can go through that pain again so soon.
Gant lifts our locked hands and kisses the back of mine. He is so casual about it, as though we’ve done it a thousand times before. He never takes his eyes from the road. I’m not sure if he did it because he wanted to kiss my hand or that maybe he can feel my mood shifting and is trying to comfort me.
It’s probably me imagining things or all of those romantic movies and books I read that has me thinking we are two people who instantly connected.
Soul mates. Could that be what this is? For some reason that only scares me even more.
Chapter Twelve
Gant
She holds my hand like she doesn’t want me to let go. I’m fine with that sentiment, which is why I don’t drive her directly to Belle Époque. Sure, that means I’ll have to make a fresh beignet run since the ones in the small box will be soggy by the time Paislee gets home, but that seems like a small price to pay to have her in my home for a small amount of time. It’s not that I’m planning to seduce her there. It doesn’t seem like she’s ready for much more than hand holding and kissing.
“Is this the right way home?” she asks as the houses get smaller and closer together.
“Date night’s not over yet,” I tell her. “We don’t want the foundation after me for failing to deliver on the entire package you bought.”
She shifts in her seat to stare at me instead of the scenery out the window. “Out of curiosity, what would the foundation do? Is there some charity jail that you’d be locked up in?”
My mind flips to the story that Petersburg told about the Biederman twins. If there was a charity jail, it’s likely their house. “Yes. It’s an old drafty house and you are chained to a post in the room and fed only gruel and water.”
“What exactly is gruel?”
“I have no idea, but we can both agree that it sounds terrible, right?”
“Yes, I can agree with that.”
“I like this. What other common ground can we find? Grass is green; sky is blue?” I tease.
“Coke is better than Pepsi.”
“Whoa there. Let’s not go crazy. Scientific studies have shown that Pepsi is the superior cola.”
“What studies are those?” She laughs.
I love that sound. I want to hear it daily. “I’ll show you when we get to my place. I have a whole stack of them in my bedroom,” I lie.
She snorts. “If you wanted to get me into your bedroom, you should just say so.”
“I want you in my bedroom. Preferably naked, but I’m fine if you want to keep your clothes on. There’s plenty of trouble we can get into even if you’re fully clothed.”
Silence falls. There’s no quick rejoinder from Paislee this time. I tear my eyes from the road to check her expression. Have I gone too far? Her eyes are wide, and her cheeks are slightly pink, but what really gets me is her parted lips.
A hundred images tumble one after another of all the profane things I could do with that slight gap. Slip my thumb between them, widen the opening with the fat head of my cock. That sort of thing. Taking her to my home might be a mistake, but it’s too late now. My driveway is two car lengths away. When I pull up to the garage, I suffer a momentary pang of insecurity. My place is tiny compared to Belle Époque. In fact, I think you could fit the entirety of my two-bedroom ranch in the ballroom of Marguerite Abbott’s place. At least that’s what my mom said the few times she’s been over. This place is so small. Even the gardener's home is larger than this. How will you raise a family and don’t tell me you aren’t having a family because I don’t believe it.