Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“It’s for the best, really. Also, I’ve been catching up with old friends here.” I pause for a moment, during which I decide not to elaborate. “It’s a nice change of pace.”
“How long do you think you’re going to stay there?”
I let out a sigh. “I’m not sure. I’m not really making any plans right now.”
“You, not making plans? Are you sure you’re okay, Lexy?” Affectionate laughter accompanies her words. She knows me so well.
“I’m fine. Really. I promise.”
Confident that she’s finally reassured, I ask how she’s doing and we catch up on a few small things before we click off. A missed call notification shows up; I hadn’t heard it come in while I was talking.
It’s Scott. It doesn’t appear that he left a message, but a few moments later, a text appears.
A long text.
I skim through his words. A long text with a lot of fucking nerve.
The basic gist of his message being that if I’m ready to make amends, he’s ready to listen and consider us getting back together.
How generous of him.
Fighting the temptation to fire back a venomous reply, I instead draw a large and fragrant bath using some of the bubbles provided among the hotel’s little bathroom amenities, and sink into the warm water right up to my chin.
I soak long enough to get thoroughly relaxed, body and mind, then I dry off, put on my pajamas, and get into bed. It’s early, but I could use the extra sleep. It’s not as though the last couple of nights have been very restful.
With the bath having worked its soothing magic, I drift off easily into a dreamless sleep, so I’m disoriented when I’m awakened by tapping at my door.
LEXY
A quick look at my phone tells me it's well past ten. Not exactly late, but not the usual time for visitors.
There’s no one visible through the peephole, and having been asleep, I don’t have a good sense of how much time has passed since I heard the knocking.
When I open the door and look down the hall, I see Thorn walking away. Hearing me, he turns, his posture straightening and his lips curving into that beautiful grin. “Lexy. You are here.”
“Yeah, c’mon in.”
Seeing my pajamas once he’s inside, he apologizes for waking me.
“It’s no problem. I’m glad to see you.”
“I actually came by to see if you wanted to go for a ride … on my bike.”
Sleep is nice, but it doesn’t compare to a motorcycle ride where I’ll be snuggled up behind someone like Thorn. “Sure, I’ll get changed.”
He takes us east, out of town, across the flat desert vista, and then up into the mountains. It’s a crisp, clear night, and I’m exhilarated by the rush of wind, the warmth of Thorn’s back against my front, and the brilliance of the stars overhead.
We follow a winding road through the hills to a lake, where Thorn turns off, retrieving some items from his saddlebags after he parks. We walk to a nearby picnic area, and he serves us wine and cheese.
“This is delicious,” I say, savoring the smooth flavor of the cabernet and the richness of the aged cheddar. “I’ve never had a moonlight picnic before.”
The light glimmers off the lake, giving our surroundings an almost ethereal glow. “Can we come back here in the daytime sometime?” I ask. “It looks so beautiful in the moonlight, but I’d love to see it better.”
“Of course,” he answers. “Anytime you like.”
“I know you’re not often free during the day.” I don’t want him to think I’m taking these glorious moments for granted.
“I do get the occasional day off,” he says, and there’s a hint of teasing in his voice that fades when he adds, “Especially when it’s for something important.”
His words warm me, and I smile at him across the picnic table. He holds up the wine bottle. “More?”
“I would, but I’ve had just enough for a nice little buzz. I want to stay alert and enjoy every second of this.”
“Good idea,” he says, and I’m sure I hear an undertone that promises there may be more to enjoy before the evening’s through.
We linger a few minutes more before he asks, “Would you like to see my place?”
I don’t hesitate. “I’d love to.”
His apartment is very different from Gage’s, with more color, lots of plants, and dark woods. It’s very welcoming, and I instantly feel relaxed and comfortable in his space.
Thorn’s personality and sense of humor come through in little details I find as I look around. Framed posters, whimsical artwork, little items on shelves that appear to have been collected while traveling.
“Are you hungry? I know my schedule is irregular, but I’m going to make dinner,” he announces after tossing his jacket onto a chair.
“I could eat.” The fresh air must have roused my appetite. “Anytime your food is on offer, I’m going to be hungry,” I add, earning another of his gorgeous grins.