Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 122216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Why is she talking about me dating? I’m lost. I’ve never brought anyone home, or gone out with anyone, either. She’s the one claiming she goes out and meets strange men at restaurants or bars, or whatever.
“Whoa.” She gives me a concerned stare.
I glance down at my hands. My coffee cup, empty of hot chocolate, thankfully, lies in a heap of crumbled clay on the counter.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” I mumble and clean up the mess I hadn’t realized I’d made. Just thinking about her with some other guy is enough to have me destroying my home goods. I need to get it together or I’ll scare her away. “It was old. You know how coffee cups get all brittle. Very common.” I force a smile as I swipe the mess into the trash bin beneath the counter.
“Uh huh.” She doesn’t sound convinced, but she sips her hot chocolate as Sylvester purrs contentedly in her lap. “I should go back home. I’ve got projects to do.”
“You can stay,” I say quickly. Too quickly. I’m botching this. “I mean, if you want to. You can stay as long as you like.”
“Well, I can’t stay past 1:30 tomorrow afternoon when Carl comes by with the mail.”
I shrug. “He’ll just bring it to the door. Mailboxes are overrated.”
She smiles. My heart does that damn triple thump, and I join her in the living room.
“I’m serious about you staying.” I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t mean, you know, in bed with me, of course.”
She frowns a little. Shit. Am I insulting her by accident?
“But I’d love to have you in my bed,” I add. “That would be … excellent, but that’s not what I was trying to… Well, you see, what I meant to say was that you are welcome in my bed. Between my sheets, you know. In pajamas. Or even naked, if you sleep naked. That’s fine. For sleeping. To sleep. Yes.”
Her cheeks turn a bright pink, and she takes an extra long sip of hot chocolate.
“No, I don’t mean—” I take a deep breath and try again. “I mean that you can sleep in my bed, and Sylvester and I can sleep out here if you’re worried about a prowler.” Was that so hard, Mac? Jesus, I want to start all over again, but I can’t. The words are already out there.
She snorts a little, then the snort turns into a full-on laugh. It’s so loud and cute that Sylvester jumps down, claws his cat tree, then climbs it with a friskiness I haven’t seen from him in years.
Just hearing it puts me at ease. Laughter is good. Far more preferable than her running away screaming.
Her giggles are infectious, and I laugh a little, the low, grumbly sound so at odds with her high, tinkling laugh. But I like it. They go well together. Like I always thought they would.
“I appreciate the offer.” She stands and places her empty cup on the pass-through counter between the kitchen and living room. “But I have orders to work on and a mailbox to fix.”
“Okay.” I try not to let my hopes sink too far. After all, I got her in my front door. That’s a huge win for me. On top of that, she seems a lot more at ease now. No more wide-eyed stares or fear.
“You sure you’re all right?” I walk to her, trying not to crowd her but finding it difficult given how big I am.
“I’m good. Just knowing you’re here makes me feel a ton better.”
I can’t help myself. I pull her into my arms. She melts into me, and I swear holding her feels like the most natural thing in the world.
“You don’t have to be afraid. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” I mean every word.
She takes a deep breath and sighs. “The guy I saw wasn’t trying to hurt me, I don’t think. But I’m worried I may have hurt him.”
“You?” I shake my head. “You’re an angel.”
She leans back a ways so she can look me in the eye. “You make an amazing hot chocolate.”
“I make plenty of things you might like.”
“Yeah?” Her eyes brighten.
“Most people think I’m some dumb lug, but I actually love …”
“What?” The way her eyes sparkle make me want to finish my sentence with ‘you,’ but I don’t.
“I love to cook and bake.”
“I’m terrible in the kitchen, but I’m a goddess with a hammer.”
“You’re a goddess wherever you go or whatever you do.” I keep speaking the words from my heart like a total fool. I’ll spook her for good at this rate.
But instead of stepping back, she nestles against my chest again. “I should’ve busted your mailbox sooner.”
“Hmm?” I stroke her hair.
“Oh, nothing.” She does let go then and moves around to the kitchen. “I’ll just put this in the sink.” She grabs her cup. “Oh.” She stops.