Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I have no doubt that she’d obey.
But I resist the temptation, and once she’s fully dressed, we leave the hotel room.
“You want to come over for breakfast in the morning?” she asks. “You’ll get better coffee from my mom than at the Sunrise.”
I kiss her cheek lightly. “What time?”
“Around eight, I guess. My mom and dad get up with the birds, but I won’t be ready for public viewing until eight.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“I can pick you up.”
“That’s okay. I’ll get there.”
She smiles. “Okay, Braden. Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For…tonight. For telling me a little about your childhood. For…”
I lift my eyebrows.
“…everything,” she finishes.
“I love you, Skye,” I say. “I’m trying.”
“So am I. Good night.”
Once she drives away, I head back up to the hotel room, and without even checking my emails, I wash up and lie down in bed.
And I sleep without interruption for the first time in months.
…
I wake up early, at five a.m. I can’t imagine this tiny hotel has a cold plunge. It probably doesn’t have a workout room, either.
Not a problem. I can take a run. I have a few hours before I’m due to meet Skye at her parents’ place. I grab my phone and order a cab to pick me up here at the hotel at seven forty-five, and then I don a tank top and shorts, pull on my running shoes, and head out.
The town is so small that it only takes about fifteen minutes to run through the main drag and the residential areas. I inhale the yeasty aroma coming from the morning bakery and then head out onto the rural roads, taking in all the green. After an hour, I return to the hotel room, strip, and shower. I toss on jeans and a blue button-down shirt. I don’t wear casual clothes nearly enough. I should change that.
I contact my pilot and have him get the plane ready to head to New York by five p.m. That will give me enough time to have breakfast with Skye and her parents, spend some more time here, and get to Kansas City on time for my flight.
My phone dings, indicating that my cab is downstairs waiting. I head down, give him the address, and we’re on our way.
“Any chance you can meet me back at the hotel around two to take me to the airport?” I ask.
“After that tip you gave me yesterday, I’m all yours.”
“Good man.” I pay him and thank him once we’re parked in the driveway. “See you later.”
I walk to the front door of Skye’s parents’ house and ring the doorbell.
My body feels more relaxed than it has in a long time. Skye opens the door.
“Good morning,” I say as I walk in. I kiss her chastely on the cheek.
“Good morning. My mom has a treat for you. Homemade apple turnovers.”
I inhale. “Is that what I smell? Sounds delicious.”
“Plus bacon and eggs. And strong coffee.”
“Perfect.” I follow her into the kitchen, where her mother is at the stove. “Good morning, Maggie.”
Her mother smiles, but it seems forced.
I know forced smiles when I see them. I saw them on my own mother’s face when I was a child. Why is Maggie upset?
“Good morning, Braden,” she says. “Please, have a seat. I’ll get you a cup of coffee. Cream and sugar?”
“Just black. Thank you.”
She sets a cup in front of me. “Turnovers will be out in five minutes. How do you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled,” Skye and I reply in unison.
“Scrambled it is.” She turns back to the stove and takes four eggs from the carton.
As good and free as I feel this morning, tension is thick in the air at the Manning household. Where is Steve? Is he not joining us for breakfast?
He’s a farmer. Maybe he already ate and is out at work. Farmers start early.
Maggie’s lips are pursed as she cooks, and she and Skye aren’t talking.
I have a feeling something is about to boil over with Skye.
Whatever it is, if it happens after two p.m., I won’t be here for it. I sincerely hope, though, that it helps Skye figure things out. I want her whole more than anything.
And I want myself whole for her.
Chapter Sixteen
“When do you fly out?” Skye asks me when we’ve both cleaned our breakfast plates.
“Not until five p.m. I’ve got a car meeting me at the hotel at two thirty.”
“Okay. What would you like to do until then?”
I burn my gaze into her, knowing she can read my mind.
“Not here,” she says under her breath, though she doesn’t need to be so cautious. Her mother escaped the kitchen as soon as she served breakfast. Maggie seems off this morning, though how would I truly know? I’d bet she and Skye had words earlier, but what about?
About why Skye is here?
About why I’m here?
I don’t know when I’ll be able to return to Skye’s stomping grounds, so I want to learn what I can while I’m here.