Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Buster wandered in to see if there was any new food being cooked that he should know about. After sniffing the air hopefully, he gave up and curled on the floor beside Betsy. She leaned down to pat him, still lost in the past.
“Howie was lingering in my office, and I could tell he didn’t want to leave either. And then we both said it at the same time. Just blurted out that we’d fallen for each other.”
Betsy smiled, and she was sure the girls’ expressions matched her own. It might be a familiar old story, but it was a good one.
Erin asked, “Do you think we need to help them along a little?”
Frowning, Mila added, “And do you think Damien’s right? Everything that comes with Arch’s fame could be a problem for Tessa?”
But Betsy shook her head. “Damien’s concerns about Arch’s fame and Tessa’s potential aversion to it could very well be valid. But even if they are, you put it beautifully, Erin, when you said that true love can take what looks like an impossible situation and make it possible.”
“That what you and Dad did,” Erin pointed out. “He thought you’d never want to leave Stanford to live and teach here, in such a small town. But you did.”
“And I’ve never regretted that decision for a second.” Betsy paused. “As for giving them a little help, I think it’s always better if two people in love figure it out for themselves, in their own time. Just like me and your dad. I have faith that Archer and Tessa are going to open their eyes and then their hearts to one another very soon. Remember your dad’s favorite saying.”
That’s how love works. One day you’re building bookshelves, the next day you’re building a family.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Breakfast had left Tessa with a warm glow that she hadn’t felt for a long time. Spending time with Arch’s family was like being cocooned in a warm bubble bath. She felt comfortable and relaxed—as though she was doing something good for her wellbeing rather than just surviving.
The more she considered it, the more she realized she could be herself around the Davenports, without having to pretend that she was tougher, stronger, funnier, or more successful than she really was.
The Davenports were so different from her own colder, smaller family, but it was like she’d always known them. Like she belonged. She never felt she’d said the wrong thing, or worse, had nothing to say at all. Instead, she slipped right into the flow of their easy conversation, teasing and all, and she never wanted to leave.
The thought was as thrilling as it was frightening. All afternoon, while she spent her free time painting at her usual spot on the beach, she hadn’t managed to sustain her usual concentration. Her memories of last night and this morning were so distracting. Her mind kept returning to his strong hands and to how naturally he’d found her most sensitive parts, caressing and worshipping them.
But great sex with Arch wasn’t entirely responsible for her distraction, even if it was hands down the best sex of her life. Honestly, though she’d had a massive crush on the movie-star version of him before they’d ever met, the fact that he was a movie star wasn’t exactly a plus in her mental pro-versus-con columns. What was a plus, however, was the flesh-and-blood man with a family who kept him grounded. And who welcomed her into their home.
Breakfast had been proof of how well she fit into his family. All the worry about how different their lives were faded into the background as long as she was surrounded by the noisy but loving Davenports. However, as soon as she was away from them, any future with Arch felt impossible.
She was well and truly torn.
And that did not make for a good mindset in which to paint.
After working slowly and without much progress for a couple of hours, she decided to call it a day and return home to Arch. He needed more time to learn his lines, but she wasn’t about to let him slack off on his exercises. Not when he was so close to making a full—and super quick—recovery.
She parked, then called a hello as she entered the hallway, carrying her backpack and easel. Despite the medley of conflicting emotions she’d had all afternoon, her heart leaped with anticipation at seeing Arch.
She needed to get a grip. It had been, what, a couple of hours since they’d last seen each other? Yet here she was simpering like a teenager at the mere image of him waiting for her on the couch, script in hand.
As she headed up the stairs to wash her brushes, put away her backpack, and freshen up, she was surprised to bump into Arch coming down.
He flashed her that killer grin. “Hello, you.”