Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Good morning.” I try not to be too chipper, and at the same time, I angle to the side so he hopefully can’t see that my nipples are poking straight through my bra and shirt. It’s a long-sleeved, cropped shirt, and I’m wearing high-waisted jeans, but they’re both on the thin side. Unfortunately, so is my bra. “Fancy a sausage roll?”
His eyes widen before they scan the cooling rack on the counter. I see him visibly relax. Sausage roll isn’t a code word for sex.
I wish it were a code word for sex. Right now, I wish he’d sweep me up, put me on the counter, literally tear my clothes off my body with his bare hands, and devour my pussy.
Instead, I get salty Rick, who pours himself a glass of water and shakes his head. “I’m good. The pool crew is here. I want to go out and supervise.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re going to discuss any and all plans with you. If you watch them, it might make them nervous.”
“I’m going to watch,” he says anyway.
“Alright. Sounds good.” Maybe it is a good thing for him to be involved with this. I think the pool might be a spite thing, but if it’s not, then I’m happy he’s found something he can be happy about. “I’ll come with you. I’d love to see how it works.”
“You’re probably right. Maybe it’s not a good thing to be constantly looking over their shoulder.”
I’m confused by the rebuff. Why are things between us suddenly colder than a penguin chilling on an iceberg? Was it the sex? Was it because I’ve been too frank and open? Is he withdrawing because it’s safer to go and hide in order to prepare for another attack and onslaught? Is he feeling confused? Is he hurting? Is he angry? I can’t freaking tell. I don’t want to be clingy, but I’m the kind of person who doesn’t like not knowing. It makes me feel nasty and bad inside.
Rick walks out of the kitchen, and I hear him going upstairs. I want to give him space, but a few minutes later, I find myself tracing the same path to his office.
The door is open, and he’s leaning back in his chair with it facing the window and watching the crew moving around the backyard. They look like they’re just mapping things out right now. Planning. I can see them gesturing and pointing things out to one another.
I lean against the doorframe. My arms are crossed but still casual. Oh, by the way, I followed your salty self in here, and we’re going to talk even if you don’t want to. But don’t worry, I’m going to try and make it as pain free as I possibly can.
“I know you think you’re a lean, mean killing machine, but you truly are adorable too.” There. If this is what’s bothering him, then we’re having it out. It’s not going to linger in silence between us anymore. I’m not the kind to drag out fights that aren’t even fights. Things don’t fester with me because I don’t give them a chance. I’m not above giving someone time. Time is a great thing. But not too much time.
He leans back in his chair, but his body goes on high alert. All his muscles tense even though he’s giving off those I’m totally casual over here, I don’t care about anything, I’m all good vibes. “I certainly am not.”
“You certainly are. Haven’t you heard the expression ‘get you a man who can do both’? You can do and be both.”
“I disagree,” he grunts.
“Well, I can find you adorable.”
“Don’t forget that finding me adorable has an expiration date.”
There it is. We haven’t talked about that since before the sex. I know I said it wouldn’t change anything. Last night, Rick stalked the house and probably sat up all night in his office the same way he usually does, keeping guard when it’s not necessary or avoiding the things from his past. Things he doesn’t want creeping up on him in his unguarded, defenseless moments.
I hold fast to what I said. I’m not someone who says one thing and then hopes it means another. I’m not into playing games. My family taught me to be a pretty straight shooter. In our house, you could always talk about how you were doing, what you were feeling, and what you had going on, and it was more than okay to ask for support.
So I’m not going back on it, and I’m not pulling a sticky, tricky, fast one, but I’d be okay if there were a new development too. I think. Ugh, for the love of chicken drumsticks, I’m not sure what I think. I’m kind of an internal mess right now. If my life is a recipe, I think that with all the recent ingredients, I can’t hope to turn out a masterpiece that’s well put together. I should expect a goulash. Or maybe I’m a pan scramble. Maybe I can be okay with that. Maybe I am okay with that. But I’m not okay with Rick being a jerk about it though. He can be nice if he wants to be. He doesn’t have to be so direct and poke a finger straight into the bruise.