Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Opening the door, I’m reminded all over again of how hot Tyler is in jeans.
Licking my lips, I smile at him. “Hi.”
“Babe,” he growls.
Just that. Babe. Why is that so stupid hot? I can’t put words to the why; I just know I love it when he says it. What I love more is the way he pulls me into his arms and kisses me deeply. When he lifts his head, I’m flushed, aroused, and ready to say “forget the date, let’s go to bed.” Who knew there was a horny trollop in me just beneath the surface waiting to be discovered? Certainly not me.
“You ready to go?”
His voice has that sexy rasp to it that he gets when he’s aroused. It’s funny I’ve picked up on that in one day. I could get used to hearing a lot more of it.
“I think so,” I answer. “But since I have no clue what to expect….”
He grins. “You’re perfect.”
He won’t tell me where we’re going, not even a hint. When I pressed and told him I had to have some idea to know what to wear, he grinned. “It’s not dressy. Wear jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt. Maybe bring along a jacket in case you get cold.”
I’m wearing my favorite faded jeans, red Chucks, and a white long-sleeved T-shirt made of the softest cotton ever. I kept it simple with my makeup: eyeliner, mascara, a hint of blush, and some tinted cherry-flavored lip balm. I left my hair down, but I’ve got an elastic in my purse if I need to put it up. Without the benefit of knowing where we’re going, I feel like I should try to cover all the bases.
“You’re a pain.” I laugh as I pluck my black hoodie from the hook next to the door and lay it over my arm.
“Surprises are good,” he teases.
I grin at him as I lock the door handle and step outside. Pulling it shut behind me, he checks to make sure it’s secure before he walks me to his truck. When we get to the passenger door, he opens it and then helps me up.
“Do you have something against the running boards?” I joke.
“Hell if I’m going to give up a chance to touch you,” he answers.
“I…. You…. Really?”
“Babe. Do you think I’d pick Ben up by the waist and help him into the truck? Or Jana? Fuck no. For anyone else, I hit the button for the running board. I’m not about to turn down any opportunities to touch you.”
I’m so… I don’t know… surprised, I guess, that I can do nothing but gape at him. Smiling, he makes sure I’m in before he closes the door and walks around the front of the truck.
I was sure once he started driving that I’d know just where we’re headed, but it’s been almost ten minutes and I’m not only clueless; I’m confused. There are no bars, restaurants, or cafes in the area we’re in right now. In fact, it’s pretty dead. This is the old part of town where the houses are farther apart—some with as much as five or six acres of land—and the islanders have purposely kept it out of the hands of developers, just like we’ve done down in my part of town.
Charlotte’s Cove keeps its charm because it isn’t overrun with idiots like Rita’s ex-boyfriend and the guy who hit on Jana and me at Ted’s. They swoop into town, buy some land, and then build a behemoth house that in no way compliments its surroundings. They then rent it out for several weeks a year, as they aren’t going to use it themselves. Tourism is a big part of the economy, but the people of the Cove aren’t about losing our way of life. Back when people started coming here for vacations and with the understanding of how much money could be made, the town council granted permits for two hotels and a golf course in the undeveloped area of town. Since then, that area has grown by leaps and bounds, but it’s removed enough from the rest of us that what makes the Cove special hasn’t been lost.
The houses in the area we’re driving through now are among the oldest on the island, but none of the families will sell unless they know it’ll be going to a local. When Tyler pulls off the street and onto a gravel driveway, I furrow my brow. “Where exactly are you taking me?”
“You have no patience,” he chides.
“I’m naturally curious.”
“Well, babe, you’re about to get your answers.”
Looking out the windshield, I see we’re pulling up next to a dock that looks brand-spanking-new. It’s long, about fifty feet, give or take, and pretty wide as well. At the end, it widens to a massive covered, screened-in seating area. There are two separate benches built into the deck, about fifteen feet apart. The coolest thing is that there are six light posts from the beginning of the dock out to the covered area. I’ve seen a lot of private docks on the island, but this is the first one that probably cost as much as my cottage.