Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Drew?” I whisper too softly for anyone but Wren to hear me. I just can’t believe this is real. It becomes even more dreamlike, when Fred says, “She’s here, hit it, boys!” and music begins to play from a speaker by Drew’s feet.
“This is for you Tatum,” he says into his microphone, making my heart leap into my throat.
The song starts with a familiar synthesizer intro and then Drew launches into the first verse of “I Want to Know What Love Is,” by Foreigner.
The first thing I notice is that his voice is terrible—sweet and sincere, but truly awful. My soul mate is tone deaf, but that’s okay. So am I. The second thing I notice is that Fred and the rest of the bikers are dancing along, swirling their rainbow flags in a wild improvisational routine that is both hysterical and incredibly moving.
The third thing I notice is that tears are streaming down my face because these people all cared enough to come serenade me at midnight.
Yes, I managed to screw a lot of things up my first week in Bad Dog, but I also managed to find my people in a way I never have before.
“Here,” Wren says, pressing a tissue into my hands. “You’re going to want to mop up your face before you go to him. You are going to him, right? Because this may be the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”
I nod, loosely, sucking in a shaky breath as I swipe at my tears. “Yes. Yes, I am. I want to know what love is, too. And I want him to show me.”
She grins and pats my back as more tears pour down my face. “I know you do, love bug. So, get going. I’ll grab my bag and head out, so you and Drew have the apartment to yourself.”
“Thank you,” I say, grabbing her for a quick, tight hug. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” she says, laughing as I turn to shout, “I’m coming down in my pajamas!” to the street.
Seconds later, I’m shoving my feet into my tennis shoes and dashing down the stairs, hurrying through the hallway beside the now closed restaurant and emerging onto the street just as Drew is hitting the chorus for the second time.
He instantly hands the microphone to Fred, who whispers, “Thank God,” before taking up where Drew left off, but in a gorgeous baritone that makes the moment even more magical.
Drew hops down from the truck bed and runs to meet me, scooping me up in his arms and hugging me tight. “Your arms are my favorite place in the world,” I murmur in the crook of his neck, still teary.
“Good, because I’m never going to let you go,” he says, squeezing me harder. “I don’t care if it’s crazy, I’ve been in love with you since the moment you told me how attached you were to your clitoris. Probably before.”
“I’ve been in love with you since you taught me how to play trout pinball,” I say, kissing his cheek. “I didn’t believe in love at first sight before, but now I do. And I don’t care who thinks we’re weird or wrong or scandalous. I just want to be with you and Sarah Beth and be happy.”
He pulls back, beaming down at me, tears in his eyes. “I’m so happy to hear that. You have no idea. Move in with me?”
I blink. “The garage apartment?”
“No, my house. My room, my bed. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, either. I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for you, and I don’t want to waste another minute. I swear,” he says, his throat working as he swallows. “I feel like I missed you before we even met.”
I feel my eyes go dinner plate wide and grab his hand, squeezing tight. “I have to show you something. Right now. Upstairs.”
“Please show me something upstairs,” he says. “And then come home with me. For keeps.”
“Goodbye Fred,” I call out as we run for the building. “I love you and will see you next Sunday!”
“Love you too, darlin’” he calls back before launching into the big finish of the song, as his biker friends twirl their flags, and a gentle snow begins to fall.
It’s magical.
Nearly as magical as the moment I drag Drew to the refrigerator and show him the note I scribbled down our first night together.
Wonder in his eyes, he gathers me into his arms. “I guess that settles it, then. Some things are just meant to be.”
“Like you and me,” I say, tears in my eyes again.
“Like you and me,” he agrees, and then he kisses me and I’m home.
For keeps.
“Pack your things,” Drew whispers against my lips.
I pull back with a smile. “How about we sleep here tonight and gather my things in the morning. I can think of something I’d rather do right now than load my clothes back into my suitcase.”