Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Her silence was awful and I almost reached for my keys and my purse. We didn’t fight like this and it broke my heart, but I didn’t know what to do. I was happy with Clayton and I needed her to see that.
“Okay,” she finally said and stepped over the couch to get to my side so she could hug me. “Okay. I’m just…scared for you. I’m scared for me. Maybe I’m just scared.”
“I’m not,” I said. So delighted it was true. I was nervous. Anxious.
But I wasn’t scared.
And I should have been.
Clayton and I rented a truck and brought back my things from Austin.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “We can look at places in Austin.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “Your job is here. So is mine, now. My sisters.”
“Anytime you want to look at a place that isn’t this place,” he said, “we can.”
“I know.” I kissed him and we fell back on the blue velvet couch we’d just moved into his condo. “But I like this place.”
“I like this couch,” he said as our bodies settled into each other. We’d become excellent cuddlers over the last few weeks. Making up for lost time, maybe. I didn’t know, but I loved it.
“It’s an excellent making-out couch,” I said.
My phone buzzed and he dug it out of the pillows behind our heads before handing it to me.
I sighed heavily.
“What’s wrong?”
“Sabrina. She’s got another couple of places she wants me to look at.”
“For the wedding?”
“Yeah. You’re lucky I’m saving you from this.”
“You don’t want to get married at the ranch?”
“I do, but—”
He grabbed the phone out of my hand and answered it.
“Sabrina, it’s Clayton. I’m fine, thanks. You?” Long silence. Really long silence. “Well, about those site visits. Veronica and I talked and we’d really like to get married at the ranch.” Silence. His brow furrowed and I laughed silently at his expression. “I don’t think that will be a problem. No. I don’t. We don’t invite three hundred people, that’s how.” He lifted his eyebrows and looked at me. “How many do we invite?”
“Two hundred,” I mouthed. “No. One hundred and fifty.”
“One seventy-five,” he said and then pulled the phone from his ear so I could hear her freaking out. “Nope. I’m sure,” he said. “If anyone can do it, you can.”
And then he hung up. And it was handled.
“Nice going,” I said.
“Well, I know you have a hard time saying no to Sabrina. Bea, too, for that matter.”
“What?” I said. “I say no to them.”
He arched that eyebrow at me again.
“They’re all I’ve got,” I said.
“I know.” He kissed my nose. “If I had sisters I wouldn’t say no to them, either.”
“You will have sisters,” I said. “In a few months.”
And, swear to God, the joy on his face made my heart trip all over itself. “I guess you’re right,” he said, still smiling. “Bea’s gonna hate that.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. At least he understood what he was up against.
I love you, I thought, but I didn’t say it. For a moment the déjà vu was dizzying. It was as if no time had passed, and I was the girl keeping her mouth shut, too scared to tell him how I felt. Too scared to be embarrassed.
I opened my mouth to say the words, knowing he might not say them back. Knowing he might not even feel what I felt. But he kissed me, filling my mouth with his breath, and I swallowed my words.
Back with all the other words I’ve swallowed. And I tried not to be disappointed with myself. I tried not to care. But I was lying to myself.
Again.
There’s still time, I told myself. I’m not making the mistakes I made before.
I was not the girl I’d been. And he wasn’t the man he’d been.
We were different. We were.
We had to be or we were doomed from the beginning.
His hand slipped up my leg, under my skirt, until he cupped me in his palm. For a second, I squeezed my legs together. I didn’t know why. But I was gripped by a sudden panic.
“Let me in,” he whispered against my cheek. He kissed the throb of my heartbeat in my neck. His fingers pressed against me.
You already are, I thought. You’re already in. You always have been.
Tell me, I thought. Tell me you feel something for me. Tell me there’s something more here than just sex. Than just me loving you. Tell me…
“I want you so much,” he said. “This skirt, Ronnie. All day this skirt has been killing me.”
It was a red skirt with black X’s and O’s on it. It was silly and made my butt look big, but I loved it. And, apparently, so did he.
Was it embarrassing that that was enough? Whatever. I opened my legs and let him in and his touch was enough. For this moment. For me. It was more than enough.