Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
He turns and disappears into the shadows again. I bend down and start picking up the larger pieces of the broken mug, placing them carefully in the curve of my palm.
“I told you not to move.”
I wave him away, pretending like he didn’t give me my second heart attack of the day. For such a huge guy, he can move really quietly when he wants to. Military training, maybe? “I’m going to help you clean up the mug I broke.”
“You’re going to get out of the way so you don’t get cut.” He gently nudges my hands aside with a broom. “I said don’t move.”
Ignoring him, I continue to pick up the pieces. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
“I was up.” He nudges me again. “Don’t move, Maren.”
“Something on your mind?”
“Lots of things. Seriously, Maren—”
“Seriously, Tuck.” I glance up at him. “Let me help.”
That muscle in his jaw tics again. My body pulses at his nearness. The way his hair is a little disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it.
What’s bothering him?
And why am I suddenly so interested in what’s going on inside his head? Maybe this is just my overtaxed brain. It’s sick of studying, so it’s latching onto something—anything—other than complex behavioral systems in a postindustrial society.
Or maybe this is my dry spell taking its toll. The last relationship I had ended a year ago. While I’m not opposed to casual sex, I haven’t loved it with the two guys I’ve been with since.
Lest we forget, Tuck is the first man to ever make me a meal. He’s also an incredible dad and—yes—indecently, insanely hot.
He’s also my new boss at a job I really, really need right now.
Also, he’s much older than I am. A decade at least.
If I want a hookup, I need to look elsewhere.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun with him. I have a feeling he and I could both use a little levity right now. Keeping my eyes glued to his, I pick up the last large piece of mug I saw by my foot and drop it into my palm.
His nostrils flare. “You don’t fucking listen, do you?”
“Please. My piggies are just fine.” I wiggle my toes before I straighten, careful not to spill the pieces I’m holding.
“Gimme.” Tuck holds out his hand. I drop the pieces into it, which he dumps into the trash can by the sink. “I’ll sweep, then vacuum. Don’t. Move.”
A shiver darts up my spine at the authoritative edge in his voice. My nipples are rock-hard. “You said you were in the Navy. Were you an officer?”
He doesn’t look at me as he sweeps. “Petty Officer first class, yes.”
“I can tell. How many sailors did you have under your command?”
“A lot.” He empties the dust tray into the trash. “And they listened.”
“You miss it, then.”
He grabs the vacuum. “Sometimes.”
“Is that why you can’t sleep?”
His gaze locks on mine. “No. That’s not why I can’t sleep tonight.”
The hard, hot look in his eyes sends a full-body shiver through me. It’s crazy to think he’s talking about me, right?
It’s absolutely ridiculous to think I’m the reason he’s tearing out his hair.
He does a thorough job of vacuuming the floor, moving his Dyson in precise lines over the hardwoods.
When he’s done and it’s safe for me to move, I walk to the coffee machine. “You made me a cocktail. Let me make you a cup of coffee.”
He blinks. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Welp, I’m not.” I hesitate when I look at all the buttons on the machine. Do I want regular coffee? Espresso? Cappuccino? Does this thing really make all of the above?
“Your turn to let me help.” Tuck comes to stand beside me. My body does that thing again where it pulses, a head-to-toe rush of blood that pools between my legs. “I made you regular coffee earlier. Want the same thing?”
I pull my lips to the side, considering. “Can I try a cappuccino?”
Tuck presses the button, explaining how the machine works as he points out this dial and that button. The sweet smells of ground coffee and steamed milk bloom between us, and the machine brews the yummiest looking cappuccino I’ve ever seen, complete with a thick layer of foamed milk on top.
“This machine is magic,” I breathe. “How many years did you have to work to be able to buy it? I need something to look forward to. Some motivation. Studying is . . . not going great. It used to be my favorite thing, but now, not so much.”
Tuck’s mouth actually curls into a kinda-sorta grin. “Took a long-ass time to be able to afford it. What’s changed?”
My turn to blink. “What do you mean?”
“You said studying used to be your favorite thing. Why isn’t it your favorite thing anymore?” He holds out the cappuccino.