Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
I blink, surprised by the sudden change of topic. I can never read this man. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.
We spend the next few hours arranging the bakery. Actually, I just tell Amos where I want things and he grunts and moves them into place.
I keep sneaking peeks as he works, watching the way the muscles in his biceps bulge as he wrestles the heavy bakery cases where I want them. I never realized I was an arm girl, but I guess I am now that I’ve seen him at work.
When I decide on a completely different layout, Amos doesn’t even complain. He starts moving all of the display cases and tables around again. He would pretty much be boyfriend of the year if he were my boyfriend. Of course, he’s not and my stupid hormones need to remember that.
“Thanks for the help,” I say. At this point, he’s gotten all of the furniture where I want it permanently. I love the new design of my shop though I still need to set up the kitchen. But as my dad would say, that is tomorrow’s problem. “I wish I had my father’s sign. It would make this perfect.”
The power flickers for the third time and Amos grimaces. “The flashlights are upstairs in the apartment. Let’s grab them now.”
“Afterwards, I’ll make you dinner for all your help,” I promise. I appreciate everything he’s done for me and I don’t want to ever take advantage of Amos. Well, actually I do want to take advantage of the hot mountain man but in a different kind of way.
Upstairs, Amos retrieves the flashlights from the cabinet in the bathroom. I glance around the small space. “So you used to live here?” I can’t imagine his large frame fitting in a bathroom this tiny. “Did anyone else live here with you?”
He snorts. “Nope.”
His admission fills me with relief. Because every time I’m around Amos, one word goes through my head: mine. He’s mine and I don’t ever want another woman to be with him.
Dismissing the jealous thoughts, I say, “I think I’ll wash up before I make dinner.”
He continues standing there for a long moment and finally, I manage an awkward chuckle. “I’m just going to grab my toiletries.”
He shakes his head as if to clear it and moves to leave the bathroom. He pauses and passes me a flashlight. “Leave it on in case the lights go.”
I take it from him, feeling the way our fingers brush. I try to ignore the way his touch makes me tingle all over, especially in that sensitive area between my thighs. I don’t know how I’m going to survive being this sexy man’s neighbor, knowing he’ll be so close and so out of reach at the same time.
I fight a yawn and lose the battle. Way to look sexy, Lyla.
But I can’t deny that I’m dead on my feet. Traveling all day, being around my hot mountain man, and rearranging the shop twice has taken it out of me.
He gives me a grin, showing off that one dimple of his. I see it so rarely, and I don’t know if that’s just because he doesn’t smile around me or if he doesn’t smile in general. “Change of plans. You wash up and I’ll make dinner.”
5
LYLA
The shower in the old, clawfoot tub works magic on my tense muscles, and I stay until the water turns lukewarm. I cut it off reluctantly, trying to save some of the warmth for Amos.
He was so sweaty today. I never thought watching a man sweat would be sexy but somehow it was. Probably because I was thinking about other ways to make him sweat.
My hand drifts between my thighs and I massage my aching clit for a moment before I stop. I’m not exactly quiet when I come. The last thing I need is for Amos to know I was in his bathroom, getting off to the thought of him touching me.
I reach for my clothes and realize I didn’t bring any in here. I was too distracted and flustered. Wrapping a towel around my body, I remind myself that Amos has seen me with way less clothes than this. He’s seen me in a bikini.
But it was different. Because back then, I only saw him once every few months or maybe even once a year. Now I’ll be around him every day for weeks. Much longer than that if my donut shop doesn’t crash and burn.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I’m greeted by the scent of garlic and oregano. It reminds me of how the house would smell when my father made his special spaghetti.
Amos is standing in front of me and he pauses when he sees me in this skimpy towel. His chest heaves as he takes a deep breath, something flickering in his gaze.