Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 161899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 809(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 809(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
He chuckled.
She reached out and squeezed his thigh then took her hand away.
It was friendly.
He still felt her touch in his dick.
This was because she was her.
It was also because, when they’d had sex, it’d been fucking awesome.
But knowing she got that hot during sex, and she was unfettered, willing and able to go for it, give it, take it, and get off on it was not going to be helpful in his mission to take this slow.
And he’d vowed to himself they were taking this slow.
Because he did not want to do anything to freak her, and he didn’t know her enough to know what would freak her.
So even though he wanted more of her physically—and he wanted that bad—he thought it best they put a lid on it and build something solid between them before they went there again.
“Thanks anyway,” she continued. “I think with Birch I just have to take my chances.”
“I hope you get, even though I urged you to consider this, why right now I’m rethinking that.”
At that, she bumped her knee against his as well as reaching out and squeezing his thigh again.
And she said, “You’re sweet, Auggie, but I’m a big girl. I’ll play it smart. But can I count on you for backup?”
“Absolutely.”
She shot him another smile and turned back to her food.
He returned to his but got out his phone, and eating as well as using his thumb on his phone, he looked up and then sent her the info she’d need to get ahold of her brother.
He’d put his phone back in his jeans and had fully concentrated on eating when he realized he didn’t hear her cell chime with his text.
“Just texted you your brother’s deets,” he said.
“Cool, honey, thanks,” she murmured distractedly, focused on piling orange chicken on some fried rice.
She’d just called him “honey” again.
He liked it again, especially now, when it was not in a scenario that pissed him off.
But something tweaked him.
“Where’s your phone?” he asked.
She gave him her attention. “In the office zone.”
“Say again?”
“The office zone,” she repeated, then said, “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t give you a tour. Though, I have an excuse.” Another grin. “I was hungry.”
“It’d be cool to have a full tour, sweetheart, your pad is freaking awesome—”
“Wow, thanks,” she cut in.
“But where’s your phone?” he finished.
Her head kicked to the side.
“I told you, Auggie, it’s in the office zone.”
“Is that upstairs?”
“No, it’s that room we walked by at the front of the house.”
He had been concentrating on her holding his hand and the feel and smell of her place, so he hadn’t noticed that room.
“Is it out of juice?” he asked.
She sat straighter and gave him her full attention.
She then opened her mouth.
But she closed it, and something moved over her face.
Then she opened it again to speak.
“You’re an adult, so when you’re here, you can make this decision for yourself. And you have a job we have yet to talk about that might mean you have to have comms close,” she began. “But I have a rule. Electronics remain in the office zone. I turn the sound off on my phone, and if I’m home for a while, I’ll go in and check it. Make sure no one has called or texted. But I also might be the only person under eighty that still has a landline. If folks need me, they can get me on that, and I don’t have to have my phone with me all the time, or have it buzzing and beeping, again, all the time.”
She stopped.
He said nothing as he digested this information.
She started again.
“And Juno doesn’t have a phone. But she does have a laptop and a couple of handheld games. I’m also considering getting her an iPad for Christmas. But that stuff doesn’t enter our living space or resting space. Our living room is for living. Our bedrooms are for sleeping or chilling out. Screen addiction is not conducive to any of that.”
Auggie still had no response.
Though, he thought it was fucking cool.
Pepper studied him in his silence then remarked, “You think I’m weird.”
“No, I think that’s fucking cool,” he replied. “I gotta tell you, at least half a dozen times a week, I wanna toss my cell in the garbage.”
“I know, right?” she asked, no longer concerned about his reaction, therefore becoming animated. “It seems like everyone’s got their head down and they’re staring at their phones everywhere they go. I wanna stop them and say, ‘The sun is shining, it’s gorgeous and warm, and you’re missing it.’”
That wasn’t why he wanted to throw his phone in the garbage.
And it was weird, but not in a bad way, that she read that on him.
“Work stuff always pressing into life?” she asked.
He dug his work. He dug who he worked with.
So that was not it.