Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
“Well, maybe I want new books…lots of new books. As many as can fit on my bookshelves.” He turns away from me and frantically begins grabbing stacks of books, holding a dozen or more books in his arms.
“Those are parenting books,” I point out.
“See how helpless I am?” He somehow does this pouty thing with his eyes, making me think of Mr. Darcy when I open a can of tuna near him.
“This is not a date,” I insist.
He manages to juggle the books into one arm and makes a halo above his hat. “My intentions are pure.”
Walt and I both snort at the same time. Mr. Darcy meows in agreement with us.
“Tough crowd,” Noah mutters.
“Let me grab my things from the backroom,” I tell him before I disappear into the bathroom. I double-check my appearance. I’ve started doing that more since I’ve met Noah. I just get so nervous around him. I want to look perfect every time he sees me.
When I’m done, I gather my things and meet Noah outside in the parking lot. I left Mr. Darcy and Walt to look after each other.
Noah opens the passenger door for me and gives me a grin that makes my stomach swoop. I wonder if he knows how irresistible I find him, how hard I have to fight not to kiss him every time I see him.
He’s beautiful. What would he say if he saw me, really saw me without my wig, lashes, and eyebrows? Would he suddenly lose interest in me? Those are questions I don’t want to know the answer to. Maybe it’s wrong but I’ll enjoy his attention for now. He’ll grow bored of me soon enough and I’ll have a few pleasant memories of a pretty cowboy. The thought makes my chest ache.
“Where did you go?” Noah’s voice interrupts my thoughts after he’s driven for twenty minutes in silence. “I’m supposed to be the one that’s scowling, remember?”
I fight a smile, realizing just how often I want to smile when I’m around this man. He makes me happy. “Just worrying about Walt.”
“He wouldn’t want you to,” he answers.
It’s another reminder that I’m not really family. I’m just an imposter playing the role of granddaughter for as long as Walt will take pity on me. I twist the bracelet on my wrist to ground myself in the present. “How long have you known Walt?”
“Over half my life, I reckon. Met him when I was just a scrawny kid, angry at the whole world for the hand I’d been dealt.”
“The hand?” I question, unable to resist prying.
He blows out a slow breath. “Foster kid. I’m only a Maple in name.”
I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist touching him. His hand is resting on the center console, and I put mine over his. “I know what it’s like to be a foster kid.”
We don’t say anything for the rest of the drive, and I don’t move my hand. I’m just being friendly. Friends support each other. This is totally fine.
Noah stops his truck in front of a one-story brick home with a wraparound porch. There are rose bushes in front of the house and a sidewalk that’s dotted with solar lights. It’s beautiful, like a dollhouse I saw once as a kid.
“My brothers helped me build it,” Noah explains. “We’ve all built homes on the farm. Most of us live within a couple of miles of Mom. Makes things easier with the multiple sclerosis for us to be nearby.”
Now that I think about it, I’ve seen Mrs. Maple around town riding in her motorized wheelchair. She always stops and chats with everyone. I wonder what she’d say if she saw me with Noah. Would she be embarrassed for her son? Would she wonder what he sees in me?
“Your home is beautiful,” I manage around the lump in my throat.
He preens under the compliment. “Come see the inside.”
He gives me a tour of his home, highlighting the features like the cherry oak floorboards and the gas stove. He shows off the screened-in porch that overlooks an acre of forest. Books are piled over every surface. Just like they were in the kitchen, living room, and dining room. He must easily have several hundred books on various subjects. “It’s a great place to relax after a long day. Plenty of space to clear for a big backyard. I reckon a swing set would look real nice in the corner over there.”
I chuckle. “You’re not a real estate agent. You don’t have to sell me the place. I’m already in love with it.” As soon as I say the words, my face goes red. But I think it’s fine because his chest puffs out.
“Let me show you the library,” he says as he leads me down the hall to a room with floor-to-ceiling windows that let natural light illuminate the space. Directly across from the windows are floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.