Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“You’re wasting time, sweetheart,” I warn him.
“Shut up and kiss me,” he growls back. I do it without hesitation.
In the end, we were forty minutes late. I’m also pretty sure my parents knew why we were late and I didn’t really care at all.
Tillie
“Sorry we’re late, Mom. Ryder had some work to take care of,” I murmur when we finally make it upstairs. Ryder’s laugh doesn’t help, and I elbow him in the stomach, which has him coughing to hide the fact he wants to laugh more.
“I thought Ryder was a baseball player. How on earth would he work from here? You can hardly bat a ball here—especially considering his team is in Texas,” Dad says, coming into the living room to join us. He hands Ryder a beer and Ryder takes it willingly.
“Thanks Mr. Carter.”
“Call me Vince,” he says, and Ryder nods his agreement as he opens his can.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Hey, baby. You are looking happy.”
“I am,” I smile because it’s the God’s honest truth. I actually can’t remember ever being this happy.
I hug my dad and we’ve barely finished before Ryder is tugging me back into his arms. I give him a look, but he just shrugs. I shake my head.
“I didn’t realize you and Ryder were still in contact,” Mom says, watching us closely.
“We actually weren’t. Ryder came back to town and then I went with the family to celebrate Mrs. Monroe’s birthday. It just kind of grew from that,” I explain lamely.
“Is that where you nearly turned the boy from a bull to a steer?” Dad asks mildly, making Ryder choke on his beer and my face heat up.
“Vince,” Mom chastises.
“What? It’s an honest question. Seems Ms. Lane has had a blast telling the entire town that you had our resident star baseball player by the balls the other night.”
“Crap,” I mutter. My face is so hot you could fry an egg on it. I look down at my shoes wishing the ground would swallow me up.
“I’m afraid that was my fault, sir. I snuck up behind Tillie and she wasn’t expecting me. She struck out thinking someone was out to get her. It’s good you taught her to be aware of her surroundings and to defend herself.”
“That it is. So how did it go from castrating to dating?”
“Well, I—”
“She offered to get me some ice and to watch over me while I recovered.”
“That’s our Tillie. Always taking in strays,” Mom murmurs. “Even when they try to bite her.”
“Mom—”
“Vince, you take our guest into the study and show him your spur collection. Tillie and I will put the finishing touches up on dinner.”
“Sounds good,” he says, moving so that he comes over to us. Ryder is forced to let go of me. Still, it’s evident that he doesn’t want to. He presses his lips to my forehead.
“Sorry,” I mouth.
“All good,” he mouths back.
There’s still a sparkle in his eyes telling me it truly is okay with him. That releases some of the tension inside me. It’s going to be okay. Ryder’s not running for the hills. In fact, he seems more relaxed than I am. Because of that I’m able to take a breath and relax.
“Tell me, Ryder, how is your team doing this year? I try to follow, but they don’t give us a lot of information this far out.”
“We’re doing okay—” I hear Ryder say before his voice gets so distant that I can’t really hear it anymore. Still, I stand there looking at the area he disappeared from.
“God, all these years and that man still has a hold on you,” Mom mutters and that’s when I jerk my attention back to her.
“Huh?”
“Ryder Monroe. That man is your kryptonite.”
I know right now is a bad time to laugh. Mom is clearly upset, and I need to find a way to allay her fears. Still, it is funny. Mom is a huge Henry Cavill fan. Okay, honestly, every woman with a pulse is probably a huge Henry Cavill fan, but Mom really is. Her love of him is only rivaled by one person. Me. I mean, c’mon. The man is a god. He couldn’t be more perfect if he was chiseled out of stone by Michelangelo himself. We binge watch his movies together and we do it with a huge bowl of buttered popcorn and giggle fits that could be likened to teenage girls. This is just one of the small reasons that my mother is my best friend in the world and why I know I need to find a way to reassure her that I’m okay.
I’m just not sure I know how to do it.
“Mom…”
“Don’t you Mom me. That man left you broken, Tillie. He hurt you in ways you lost your beautiful smile, and it never fully came back, not once.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is,” Mom insists, and I sigh.