Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“What? How? Pat is very serious about getting as many guests in as possible on the weekends. How did you talk her into doing this?”
“Well, I tried flirting with her, but that technique seems to only work with the West sisters. So I offered to partner with her shop and do catering for her big parties.”
“Look at you, making deals and partnerships with the small-town crew.”
“Your golden retriever energy is rubbing off on me.” He took my flowers and placed them in a vase he’d already had set up on the table. He then rolled up his sleeves as he grabbed aprons for us both. “I will say, though, Pat pretty much made the other water dishes I gave you, so you’ll have to guide me through this.”
My eyes widened. “We’re making water dishes?”
“Of course we are. We have to replace the one that the stupid black cat shattered a few weeks ago. Plus, Feliz needs a nice custom dish from the queen of water dishes.”
Glimmer.
“Don’t worry, I’m a great teacher,” I told him. He walked over to me and placed the apron around my neck, his hand brushing gently against my skin, making every hair on my body stand straight up. He walked behind me to tie the apron around my waist.
His proximity still surprised me, even though I knew we were acting out a relationship. Though a part of me wondered what was the point of the date was if others weren’t viewing it? Why were there so many tender moments if we were alone in our solitude, without eyes to witness said moments?
Once he finished knotting me up, I shook off the feelings and moved over to the stations. Pat had already set them up with all the tools and clay we’d need to make our creations. “I hope you’re okay getting messy,” I warned him.
“I’ve been waiting for the day I could get messy with you.”
My cheeks heated, as I tried to shake off every feeling of falling for him. But I kept finding myself tripping, stumbling whenever he spoke my way.
“Okay, you control the wheel with the pedal and just push it to make it go,” I explained. I then showed him how to start molding the clay, pushing it down with my thumbs and working my hands into it to get the desired shape. Alex followed my guidance, but his ended up being a sloppy mess. I couldn’t help but laugh at the frustration in his eyes. It was clear that my Mr. Black was a bit of a perfectionist, so his failure at pottery made his grimaces come back.
“You’re using too much pressure,” I told him.
“I don’t know how to do it any lighter.”
“Here, let me show you.” I stood from my station and walked over to him. I placed my hands over his. “Let up on the wheel a little. Slow it down. If you push it too hard, it won’t create the piece you’re after. It’s a balancing act.”
He slowed down the machine.
I placed my hands on top of his, guiding his fingers. “Now, go slow and work your fingers toward the bottom to start with the shape, okay?”
I moved my fingers on top of his, ordering his steps.
He stopped the wheel and wrapped an arm around my waist. He placed me in his lap and grinned. “You can guide my hands better from here.”
I could do a lot of things better from here, I thought.
Clearing my throat, I wiggled myself into his lap and placed my hands back on top of his. He slowly pressed his foot to the pedal, and the wheel began spinning again. Slow. Steady. Gentle.
My hands were covered in clay and Alex was covered with me as my hands guided him. He leaned forward slightly, pressing his chest against my back, glancing over my shoulder at the water dish.
“That looks a little better,” he mentioned.
“That’s why you can’t just be forceful. Sometimes you have to go slow.”
“I’m good at slowing down my speed, too,” he said, his hot breaths falling against my neck.
“Alex?” I whispered.
“Yes?”
I slightly turned my head to feel his cheek brush against mine. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Always.”
“Sometimes you say things that make my lady parts dance because said locations of my body do not know we’re pretending, even though we are pretending, so if you could not say such things in order to keep me from going into heat, that would be great.”
The wheel stopped spinning.
His thumbs stopped thumbing.
He turned me around to face him as I sat in his lap, my legs falling to the outside of his. Those brown eyes narrowed as he covered my arms in clay from holding me.
“Are you saying I turn you on, Goldie?” he asked, his voice low with a ridiculously smug smirk on his face.