Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Pearl and I finally made our excuses and left her parents and brother to walk back to the Inn. I was stuffed from all of the little bites of food throughout the day and a little buzzed from the drinks. Pearl had been uncharacteristically quiet all night, mostly seeming happy to let me do the talking.
“Well,” I said as we strolled down mainstreet with the stars overhead and the fading sounds of conversation from the bonfire. “That could’ve gone worse. Although I think those Alabama boys might literally kill me if I ever cross you.”
She smirked. “They’re harmless.”
“I really like your family, though. Seriously.”
“You do? They didn’t freak you out?”
“No, why would they?”
“They can be a bit much. My mom, especially. She’s just so… ready. Like any time I’m with a guy she wants to anoint him as my soulmate the moment she meets him. She’s so desperate for me to be with someone and it can be so hard to know I’m constantly letting her down.”
“I can see that,” I said. “Honestly, I felt it myself, too. Like now we’re going to be letting down your whole clan when we call this thing off at the end of the week.”
“Yeah,” Pearl said, voice quiet.
We reached the front of the Inn and slowed our pace. Neither of us seemed entirely ready to step inside yet, but I wasn’t sure why.
A window above us clattered open, banging on the exterior. We both looked up and saw Lane and Curtis hanging halfway out the second story window. “‘Ey! Lovebirds!”
Lane grinned wide. “Kiss ‘er!”
“That’s okay,” I said. “It’s pretty late, we were–”
“Kiss your woman if you ain’t afraid of a little Crisco in your coffee!” Curtis squealed.
Crisco in my coffee? Frankly, I was afraid of that. But, from his tone, I sensed it was some kind of challenge to my manhood. I met Pearl’s eyes. “You don’t have to,” I said, quiet enough that only she could hear.
Pearl chewed her lip. “It might look suspicious if we don’t,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, though no part of me was worried about how suspicious it would look. All I could think was how soft her lips looked and how long it seemed like it had been since I’d felt them on mine. “It might be.”
“Then get over here,” she said with a smile that I knew was going to haunt me. “Unless you’re scared of a little Crisco in your coffee, that is.”
I hooked her by the lower back and pulled her into me, kissing her more intensely than I’d planned. She sucked in a surprised breath, then I felt her tongue slip into my mouth and felt the gentle vibration of her moaning against my mouth.
Curtis let out a wild “Yee-haw!” that probably woke everybody who was trying to sleep within a block. Lane followed it with another high-pitched, “Sheee!” and a peeling round of laughter.
Pearl pulled away from the kiss and looked up at them. “Happy?” she asked.
“You sure look like you are!” Curtis called down. “Happier than Grandma Bobo when pickled pigs feet are on sale!”
“Pickled pigs feet?” I asked quietly.
“It’s a thing,” Pearl assured me. “Come on.” She took my hand and gave me a little tug toward the door. “Better get in there before they ask us to do anything else.”
Part of me wanted to stay right there and hope those Alabama brothers did. But the rational part of me knew she was right. I let her guide me inside and up to our room. With two separate beds and a shower door that wasn’t see-through, we were able to get ready for bed in relative silence without any of the same kind of tension we’d had back in Asheville. Except, even with a little distance between our beds, I felt like there was something crackling in the air between us again.
When I rolled to my side and tried to sleep, all I could think about was kissing her.
Every kiss made me hungry for more.
Every touch made me crave her that much more.
Every hour I spent with her made me less and less sure I knew what was best for me.
25
PEARL
The restaurant attached to the Ashford Inn apparently went by many names. At some point, it didn’t have a name. Then it had been Harper’s Hollow. Then The Honeypot, until somebody told the owners that phrase had a dirtier meaning than they realized. Now it was simply known as The Spot. Whatever they called it, the food was freaking delicious.
I met up with my mom and dad here this morning while Dean went for a morning run. It was like Steph said–Guys who looked like Dean really did squeeze exercise in all the time, no matter the circumstance. Personally, if I was ever on some kind of health kick, the habit was immediately and irrevocably broken as soon as I went out of town. Hell, sometimes a good show was reason enough to break my workout or dieting plans.