Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“It must be tiring being the owner of a company, with so many people depending on you.”
“It is, but I built IMG from the ground up and want it to be successful. It’s like my baby, and I know if I put in the time now, later on down the road, it will take care of me.”
“That’s a good way to look at it,” I say as he pulls a plate out of a drawer under the stove and piles it with fluffy-looking scrambled eggs.
I take it when he hands it over to me. “Ketchup or salsa?”
“Ketchup.” I set the plate down, my stomach growling at the smell. A moment later, he comes back with the ketchup and a fork, handing me both. I add a large glob to the side of my plate then wait for him to bring his around. Once he’s seated, I dig in, dipping the eggs in ketchup before I take a bite, almost moaning. I didn’t notice him putting in cheese or spices, but it’s delicious.
“Good?”
I turn and nod. “So good, thank you.”
He grabs my knee, squeezing it, the small gesture giving me comfort and turning me on all at the same time. Honestly, there isn’t much about him that doesn’t turn me on, and the more I learn about him, the more I like. He might have more money than one person could spend in a lifetime, but he’s not your typical rich asshole. Or maybe he is and he just hasn’t shown that side of himself to me. “So tell me about your family. Do they live in Washington?”
Darn, I should have been prepared for that question. The normal question you ask someone when you’re getting to know them. The kind of question I dread, because I don’t like people to feel sorry for me, and no matter how much I sugarcoat my past, that’s exactly what happens. “As you know my brother lives here.” I go with being evasive, hoping he’ll read between the lines and let it go.
“And your parents?”
“They aren’t around.” I take another bite, feeling his eyes on me as I chew.
His hand lands back on my knee, and he holds it there, not saying anything, just waiting for me to look at him. When I do, his voice is soft as he asks, “Not around, as in they don’t live here, or not around at all?”
“My dad passed when I was fifteen. My mom passed away two years later.”
“Dakota—”
“Please don’t,” I say quietly, covering his hand with mine. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you, Dakota. I just want to understand.”
“My mom survived the car accident that killed my dad then she got addicted to pain medication and killed herself.”
“So, you and Jamie…?”
“So me and Jamie wound up living in foster care. Thankfully, we found a family who took us both in, so things weren’t as bad for us as they could have been if we’d been separated.”
“Jesus.”
“It could have been worse.” I shrug, turning away from him, and begin moving my food from one side of my plate to the other.
“Don’t do that.” He squeezes my leg.
“Do what?” I turn to lock eyes with him.
“Try to play it off like that shit didn’t mark you. Like you’re hard as stone and nothing can hurt you.” I rub my lips together while staring into his eyes. “It’s okay to let your guard down and be vulnerable around me.”
Is it? I mean, our relationship so far has been built on lies and a hefty amount of lust. It’s not exactly the solid foundation you need in order to trust someone.
“Maybe one day I’ll get to a place with you where I feel comfortable letting you see all the ugly parts of me,” I say, wanting to be honest. “But right now, I’m not there.”
“I get that.” He lifts his hand and his fingers softly touch my cheek. “I just want you to know I’m here if you want to talk.”
“I’ve dealt with my past, Braxton. I don’t need a counselor or a therapist.”
“I’m sure you don’t but I would like to be your friend.”
“None of my friends have seen me naked.”
His lips twitch. “A different kind of friend then.”
“Right.” My own lips quirk into a smile then his wrist starts to flash, gaining his attention.
“Shit, I gotta take this call.”
“That’s okay,” I say, catching a glimpse of the time. “I should go down to my place and get ready for work.”
“I’m gonna assume there is no way I can convince you to hang out here in my bed all day.”
I laugh, tossing my head back, and when my hilarity dies down, I find him watching me closely. “What?”
“Nothing, I just like hearing you laugh,” he says softly, leaning in to touch his lips to my forehead. “Send me a message when you get down to your place.”