Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Nothing more, nothing less.
She bashfully looked away, and I missed her stare the moment she stole it from me.
I’d have to lie to myself and pretend I hadn’t, though.
“Everyone’s having a great time.” Willow beamed as she sat down at the table I’d been stationed at since dinner was served. There were people scattered all around my property, some laughing by the dock, others signing the colorful souvenir bench that Grandma would place in the middle of her garden as a memory piece. Yet most people were on the dance floor, moving as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
I turned toward Willow, then looked back out at the crowd. It was hard for me to stare at her for long periods of time. My mind became too jumbled. “People love my grandparents.”
“They are very lovable.”
I could feel her smile. My hands grew sweaty, and I rubbed them against my legs. “Shouldn’t you be on the dance floor yourself?”
“I’ll need a dance partner first.”
At the hopeful stare in her eyes, I parted my mouth to tell her how there was no chance in hell she’d see me on that dance floor tonight, but another voice spoke on my behalf before I could get one syllable out.
“My cousin doesn’t dance,” Peter said, walking over with a glass of whiskey. It was clear he’d been drinking and was plastered out of his mind. I wasn’t trying to judge him as most people at the party were drunk off their asses. But Peter became fifty times more annoying whenever he drank. His already unfiltered mouth only became more absurd.
Peter held his hand out toward Willow. “But I do. Besides, I think I owe you an apology still.”
Willow shifted slightly in her seat; her discomfort was apparent.
I swallowed hard, choking down some of my own pride, then stood. I held my hand out toward Willow. “Shall we?”
Her doe eyes widened with surprise. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, almost as if asking if I was serious.
I nodded.
It was funny how we could communicate without words.
She placed her hand in mine, and I pulled her to her feet. We walked to the dance floor as a slow song was playing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter down his whiskey, then head back to the bar for another.
As Willow and I made it to the dance floor, she wrapped her arms around my neck, and I placed my hands against her hips. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I’d never slow danced with a woman before. But something about Willow made it seem effortless. It was as if my feet knew where to go, and she followed me without any thought behind it. Her eyes stayed on me the whole time, along with that soft smile against her full lips.
“Thank you,” she whispered, tilting her head up to meet my stare.
“Have you two spoken since the incident?”
“No. I’ve been going out of my way to avoid him.”
“So I guess you and I have something in common,” I joked. She smiled still, but it looked a little sad. “What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing, I just…” She lowered her head. “I’ve been thinking about what Peter said. How I was coming onto him. How I was putting out signals. Maybe it was my fault, and I overreacted. Maybe I came on too strong or seemed flirty, and he just read the signs wrong. Maybe… I don’t know. Maybe I was too much at the beginning.”
“Do you do that often?”
“Do what?”
“Overthink everything.”
She nodded. “Oh yes. I’m a professional overthinker. If there were an Olympic medal for it, I’d take gold.”
“I’d probably give you a good run for your money.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “You’re an overthinker, too?”
“When you talk as little as I do, all there’s left to do is overthink.”
“Hmph.” She kept swaying with me. Was this dancing? Was I a dancer? “I just thought when you were quiet, you were thinking about fishing.”
“To be fair, that is ninety-five percent of my thoughts.”
She laughed.
I loved the sound.
“You didn’t do anything wrong with Peter,” I told her. “He’s always been like that. You could’ve been as disinterested as ever, and he would’ve assumed you were playing hard to get.”
“Noted. I’ll remind my overthinking mind of that repeatedly,” she said. I smiled. “If you could do that more often, I’d be forever grateful.”
“Smile?”
“Yeah. They look good on you.”
I wondered if she knew she was the reason I’d been doing the smiling thing more often. I shifted in my shoes. “Grandma and PaPa seem happy today.”
“That’s all I wanted. I know things have been hard for them both…speaking of, how are you doing with Harry’s health?”
I frowned. I parted my mouth to speak, but no words came out. The sting of emotions behind my eyes burned slightly.