Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Just a few minutes later, we’re already back in the car pulling onto the road. The sun is completely down now, and the stars are out as Samuel drives us back to the ranch. The radio softly plays something, but it’s too quiet to tell what it is.
I wonder why he hasn’t turned up the volume. Is he too lost in his thoughts? For that matter, what are his thoughts? I can’t help but sneak glances at the side of his face, curious about where his mind is. All I get are his pretty eyes focused on the road, twinkling in the soft moonlight—and the very, very rare streetlamp we pass under. He’s obediently keeping his promise of not saying a thing while we’re in his car.
I kinda wish he’d break that vow and keep pestering me. Was I wrong to decline his offer so quickly? Can’t I use someone to get through this awful week? Isn’t that exactly what I need?
What if Nadine really was setting us up with each other?
A warm, happy little fire ignites inside of me.
Maybe second time’s the charm.
We pull up to the Strong house before I know it. The second we get out of the car, the noise of the party fills our ears, even from out here. After popping the trunk, we silently load our arms with bags, nod at each other, then head for the house.
It’s while we’re unloading the items in the kitchen that I say, “Thanks.”
Samuel pauses to look at me. “For?”
“Today.” I shrug. “I guess maybe it did me some good to … get away from everything.”
“Hmm.” He smiles. “Happy to be of service.”
I smirk teasingly at him. “Service? Don’t get the wrong idea, rabbit boy. I wasn’t a housecat you were looking after.”
That makes him chuckle. “Alright. Not happy to be of service. Happy to be … of presence.” He puffs up his chest, proud, as he gazes at me with a cheery twinkle in his eyes. “Happy to be there when you needed a friend … or whatever.”
I suck in my bottom lip as I continue to unload a bag, choosing not to respond to that—or maybe unable to.
A friend … ‘or whatever’.
Why do those last two words feel so significant? Like they’ve got all of this extra weight and deep emotion clinging desperately to them? All of this extra meaning? Extra intent?
‘Or whatever’.
I can’t stand it anymore. “Samuel …”
He stops what he’s doing entirely and faces me. “Yeah?”
A voice claps across the room like a whip. “You’re back! What perfect timing!”
Samuel and I turn to find Nadine cutting her way through the maze of bodies and obstacles in the kitchen, nearly steamrolling over someone’s kid who’s untangling a strand of lights.
“Malcolm!” she sings as she approaches. “I got someone here I’d like to introduce you to! I think y’all will just hit it right off! Cole,” she calls out behind her. “Cole, darlin’, come up here!”
From behind her comes a breathtaking young man. Vibrant eyes. Handsome. Full, plush lips. Smooth, tawny skin with tinges of rosy blooms at his cheeks. Hair perfectly parted and styled. A crisp and formfitting polo shirt without a wrinkle in it. Matching slacks and belt. Athletic build with arms that fill his short sleeves.
Absolutely flawless.
He flashes a dazzling smile, and I learn he has perfect teeth, too. “Nice to meet you, Malcolm. I’m Cole Harding. It’s a pleasure.”
Chapter 7
Mr. Perfection.
I stand there like a housecat in headlights.
Is that a thing?
A housecat in headlights?
Cole is fucking perfect. Even with unlimited imaginative power, I could never possibly dream up a better-looking individual in my mind. I’d never be able to achieve the attention to detail this man exhibits. There isn’t a flaw on his face, not a flaw on his body, not a single damned flaw in his posture, wardrobe, or strand of hair.
He. Is. Perfect.
“Cole Harding,” I repeat back to him, still paralyzed. “I … I’ve never heard that name before. Are you new here? Wait, who am I kidding.” I chuckle awkwardly at myself. “I’m not even from here. How would I know? Sorry, I didn’t let you answer the question.”
He smiles again, destroying me with his beauty. “Spruce, born and raised. I graduated from Spruce High a couple years ago. Just been keeping to myself and minding my own humble business.”
What does that make him? Twenty? Twenty-one? “Oh. Nice.”
Nadine rushes forth to put a hand on both our backs, guiding us toward the doors leading out to the unoccupied side patio. “Go on, you two. Get to know each other. I’ll tend to everythin’ else!”
As we’re promptly (forcibly?) pushed onto the patio, I glance over a shoulder at Samuel, who stands like a statue at the kitchen counter, lips parted, a lost expression painted over his face. I only catch a second of Samuel before Nadine shuts the door between us and returns to the kitchen, my view of him cut off.