Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
My hands twitch when I imagine burying them in that soft, thick hair. There’s a longing in me, deep and throbbing. I need to get a hold of myself before I make a stupid mistake that at the moment doesn’t seem like it would be that stupid at all.
She notices me staring, of course, and smirks before giving me a slow turn. “Ta-da.”
“Very nice,” I manage to croak now that my mouth and throat have gone bone dry. “Feel better?”
She bats her lashes, which are now darker thanks to the makeup she’s applied. “I feel more like myself.”
“That’s good. See? This doesn’t have to be torture.”
“You don’t have to lay it on so thick.” I can’t help but laugh at myself because she’s right. I am laying it on pretty thick. She grins before turning away, going to the kitchen. “I’m starving.”
“And I am convinced you’re reading my mind. I’ve been sitting here listening to my stomach growl.”
“You didn’t need to wait for me. You’re more than welcome to help yourself around here.” She eyes me warily over her shoulder. “You’ve already made yourself pretty comfortable, by the looks of it.”
I remove my feet from the coffee table with the distinct feeling I’ve been put in my place. “What do you have around here?” I ask on my way to join her.
“Not sure.” She opens the fridge, and I watch a look of sly understanding touch her features. “I should’ve known. He got the fridge stocked for me.”
“Because he wants you to have what you need.”
“Because he was so confident you would bring me back.” Our eyes meet over the top of the refrigerator door, and all I can do is shrug.
“He knew we would get the job done once we told him we’d located you. That’s why he sent us, because he trusts us. And we know our shit.”
“All right, don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back.” She digs around and pulls out a couple of blocks of cheese, some bacon, and tomatoes. “These do not belong in the fridge,” she grumbles, leaving the bagged tomatoes on the counter.
“What are you planning to make?” I ask, since now she’s piqued my interest.
“You know what I’ve craved?” She sets everything out, then pulls a pan from beneath the counter. “A good grilled cheese sandwich. Not some processed cheese bullshit, either.”
“That sounds great. Can I help?”
She lifts a delicate eyebrow. “Can you fry bacon without ruining it?”
“That, I can do. The trick is not using very high heat and pulling it a minute before you’re satisfied. It continues crisping up as it cools off.”
“I feel like I’m watching a cooking show,” she quips.
“I’ve got plenty of other tips, if you’re interested.” Do I ever. I could show her a thing or two no younger man could ever manage.
“For now, I’d settle for some crispy bacon to put on my sandwich.”
“Fair enough. Don’t come begging for my wisdom later on.” The sound of her soft laughter does something to me it shouldn’t, but there’s no helping it. The way I light up inside, the way she warms up all the parts of me that were once cold and dark.
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” she warns while digging around in the cabinets. “Just because we are making lunch together doesn’t mean I approve of this situation.”
“Don’t go getting the wrong ideas,” I counter. “Just because we’re working together like this doesn’t mean you have a say in whether or not I stick around.”
“Ouch.”
I turn her way after placing the bacon in the hot pan. “All I’m saying is, fighting this is a waste of time and energy. You know as well as I do this is how it has to be.”
“And you know as well as I do, I’m not going to sit back and accept that. I did what I thought I had to do.”
“Just like Mason is now,” I remind her in a gentle voice. I had intended to calm her a little, but the lines etched across her forehead only deepen. “Sometimes, it’s best to go with the path of least resistance. It’s the tree that bends in a fierce wind that survives without breaking. It gets stronger, too. That’s who you need to be now. You have to be willing to bend.”
“I don’t bend for anybody unless I want to.”
“And I would expect no less.” I look her way again and find her thoughtfully chewing her lip and staring down at the counter instead of grating the cheese. “But it might make things easier on you if you focus on adjusting to the way things are for now rather than fighting against it.”
“Are you offering this advice as my brother’s mouthpiece, or is it coming from you?”
“Don’t insult me,” I murmur as I flip the bacon. “I thought we were better than that.”