Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“We are.” Scott smiled, then did a double take when he noticed my teeth chattering. “Hey, you’re freezing. We should start walking back.”
“No, no. It’s o-okay.”
He looked as though he was about to argue, but he scooted closer to me instead and put his arm over my shoulder. I thought I was going to melt like cheddar cheese on a hot skillet.
Thankfully, Scott didn’t seem to notice. He took another sip of tea and nodded a greeting at a man walking his dog on the nearby path.
“Heather’s cool,” he said after a moment. “You’d like her.”
“Do you look alike?”
“I guess. We both have brown hair and brown eyes. She’s short, though. Like you.”
I frowned. “I’m not short. You’re just huge.”
He waggled his brows. “I sure am.”
“I wasn’t referring to the size of your penis,” I huffed primly.
Scott snickered like a teenager. “You sure?”
“Very.” I rolled my eyes in mock censure. “Tell me more about your sister.”
“There goes my mini chub,” he groused playfully as he stretched his long legs in front of him. “Heather’s forty-two and she’s a single mom. She’s a pharmacist now, but she was in the Coast Guard for years. You know those badass divers who rescue people from doomed boats while getting pummeled by fifty-foot waves? That’s her. She’s brave as fuck. When we were kids, she was the one who jumped off the roof into our neighbor’s pool while I experimented with brownie recipes.”
“Really? You seem too competitive to pass on daring exploits. I bet you did it all—played sports, took dares, baked brownies…”
Scott cocked his head thoughtfully. “I s’pose I did.”
“What sports did you play?”
“I played a few, but mainly football in high school and college. You?”
I wrinkled my nose. “No. I tried out an instrument or two, and I was in a couple of school plays, but I had no desire to frolic on a field with sweaty overly aggressive boys. They might be right about youth being wasted on the young, because that sounds appealing to me now.”
He chuckled softly. “Perv.”
“Maybe,” I winked. “I feel weak in the knees at the thought of you in those tight football pants. Were you any good?”
“I was an all-American DB at UDub.”
“A DB at UDub,” I repeated. “I don’t understand, but I’m sure that’s impressive.”
“A defensive back at the University of Washington,” he translated with an amused snort.
“I know what UDub is, but…never mind.” I gave an impatient wave, hoping to dissuade him from explaining sports positions. “Consider me impressed. A baker and a sporty person. You must have been quite popular.”
Scott’s lips curled on one side. “Maybe. I loved being on a team, which is funny ’cause I prefer to work alone now. Back then…my teammates were my best friends. My second family.”
“Are you still close to them?”
“Oh, yeah. I see most of the guys who still live in the Seattle area whenever I go home,” he replied, sipping his tea. “We get together for barbecues and throw the ball around with their kids. I usually bring my nephew. Emmett’s a little on the scrawny side, but he loves football too…and video games and…”
I melted into Scott’s side, listening intently as shared stories about his nephew, his parents, the cottage his family rented at the lake every year. His voice was warm with easy affection, and tinged with a trace of longing I realized now had always been there.
Scott was a multi-faceted man. Once again, I couldn’t help but wonder why he stayed here when the people he loved most were back home. There had to be more to his story and I hated knowing that I might not be here long enough to uncover it.
He didn’t share confidences easily. I sensed it would take time to make it past his defenses. And I didn’t have time. I had just over a week left in the UK, and I wasn’t going to jeopardize any part of it by poking where I wasn’t welcome. I’d take whatever he was willing to give and be happy.
So I stayed in the moment, hoarding precious details—like the deep rumble of his voice, the smudge of flour on his jeans, and the faint scent of his woodsy cologne—while he talked about people and places I’d never meet and might never visit.
To be here with him now was enough.
In the days following our “date” in the park, we fell into a new routine. I spent the mornings with my mom, then took the train to Bath to “consult” with Scott.
That wasn’t a new code. We actually did talk about my suggestions for future marketing plans over lunch. I’d advised him to hire a dedicated assistant to handle his social media presence and newsletter, and brainstormed other ideas to get his brand noticed. Nothing required a storefront anymore. He could be extremely successful online if he managed his presence effectively.