Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
“Oh, fuck yes, Rowen,” Shane said, nodding in approval as he looked all around.
I’d put delicate white hanging lights in a couple of the trees nearby, which slowly blinked downward to make them look like icicles. I’d also wrapped strings of lights around the banisters that flanked the pathway leading up to the guest house front door, and of course, all along the roof, I’d strung classic multicolored lights.
“Who do you think I am, Shane?” I asked in a teasing voice. “Of course I have my decorations up.”
“And your grandparents don’t mind?”
“I’m telling you, they don’t care what I do,” I said. “I could have a rave in this guest house every night and I doubt they’d even notice.”
It was hard to impress upon him how independent I really was, here. I got a sense earlier today that Shane’s family were all very close, but as far as my grandparents were concerned, I was just a stray that they’d taken in.
“I love it,” Shane said.
“Come on in.”
I pushed open the front door. I turned on the lights on my Christmas tree inside, and lit a couple of candles on the living room coffee table.
“This is nice enough to be a real house, and it’s just the guest house,” Shane said. “The windows looking out back to the pine trees—that’s the good stuff, right there.”
I led him to the kitchen and he set down the pink box on the marble countertop.
“I’ve been wondering what’s in this box,” I told him.
“Go for it.”
I opened it up to reveal an assortment of incredible looking fresh pastries: an apple turnover, a chocolate croissant, some sort of danish, and a little stack of homemade chocolate chip cookies.
“I’m starting to think you bring sweet things with you everywhere you go,” I said, taking a bite of the flaky, buttery apple turnover. “Good God, that is incredible.”
“That one’s my favorite,” he said.
“You want half?”
“I already had a whole one this morning. Go for it.”
I devoured it. I watched Shane as he looked around a little more. As I wiped off my hands on a tea towel afterward, I could tell he was a bit uncomfortable.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked him.
“Me? Oh, not much,” he said, and immediately I could tell it was a lie.
I was starting to realize Shane had a bit of a shell, and unless I asked further, he wasn’t going to tell me what was up.
Honestly, having him here was the best I’d felt since being in this guest house, and if he was feeling weird about something, I wanted to figure it out now.
“You seem nervous about something.”
He bit his lower lip, and the way his teeth came down on it sent a little flare of desire through my body.
I really did like kissing him. There was something about him—something unlike any other guy I’d spend much time with.
Something that made me want to draw him in close and tell him everything was going to be okay.
He took a deep breath, leaning against the countertop. “How do you feel about Christmas parties?” he finally asked.
“Love them. Obviously. Next question.”
He puffed out a laugh. “Well, the next question is…”
“You want to throw a Christmas party? I would help with every step of the way, if so,” I said.
“My family’s already throwing one,” he said. “And I—well, um—fuck it. I want you to go with me. Would you go with me?”
The mixture of confidence and sweet hesitation he’d shown in the span of one question made my heart soar inside me. In my past, I’d asked women to fuck without a care in the world, but Shane asking me a simple question like this clearly was a big deal, for him.
“Of course I would,” I said.
He swallowed. “...as my fake boyfriend?”
It dawned on me all at once why he was being a little cagey about it.
“Oh, Shane,” I said, shaking my head, unable to hide my smile. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”
“I know, I know,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. He dragged his palms across his face before he could look at me again. “You know that I kind of told my mom I was seeing someone, and now she thinks I’m inviting him to the party. And… I’m screwed, basically.”
“Well, I don’t know,” I said, cocking my head to one side. “I’d have to look at my schedule, and see if I could fit in a party—”
His expression went sympathetic in two seconds flat.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to do it,” he said quickly.
“I’m fucking with you,” I told him. “I’m glad to do it. I’ll be your fake boyfriend for a little longer.”
He let out a long breath. “God, I owe you one. Are you doing anything for Christmas itself? Are your parents coming into town?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Nah. They’re not coming.”