Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
I open my mouth to say … what? Every day that I spend with this man, every detail I learn about him, I fall harder. In my gut, I already know I want this—all of it. Tyler, sitting beside me at the dinner table; Tyler, stripping me down the moment we step inside our home; Tyler, next to me when I wake, whether it’s in my bed or in the frigid Alaskan tundra.
Tyler, loving me.
And, fate willing, a chance at what I’ve started believing I would never experience.
Tyler knows all my secrets, he knows what I want, and he’s not shying away from any of it.
At this moment, I know there is nothing I want more than him. All of him.
“Then it doesn’t work,” I echo, granting permission of sorts.
In seconds, he’s collected me in his arms and lifted me off the table to carry me to my bed. My body feels like it’s about to erupt beneath his weight and his hot skin as he climbs on top of me, even as my mind grapples with what’s happening, with what I’ve agreed to.
Tyler completely takes over, pinning my arms above my head, his hips thrusting against mine without any hesitation. Soon, I’ve dismissed any concerns that dare poke at my conscience, and I’m rocking my hips to meet his, our bodies moving together in an erotic dance full of unspoken promises, our lips never breaking, all the way to the end.
Our cries meld in the quiet night.
I welcome each pulse of Tyler inside me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I note the red Honda Civic in the parking lot as I push through the clinic’s front door.
“See? Click there.” Mom and Cory are behind the desk, Mom squinting at the computer screen through her thick-rimmed bifocals while Cory hovers over her shoulder, explaining the booking system we installed years ago.
A plate of home-baked muffins sits on the desk counter, as it always did on Monday mornings when Mom sat behind that desk. The scene brings a wave of nostalgia. “Morning,” I call out in a singsong voice that’s very unlike me. But the high I’ve been floating on since my eyelids cracked this morning shows no sign of abating.
I can still feel Tyler’s weight on my body, his hands all over me.
Him, so deep inside.
I struggle to clear thoughts of what we did last night as I focus on a day at work. “Hey, Cory, did you get a new car?”
“No. Joe dropped me off. But Mrs. Perkins is here.” She nods to the lobby chair tucked in the corner where a woman sits, a Jack Russell on her lap.
I double-check the clock on the wall in case I somehow lost track of time while getting dressed. But no, we don’t open for another half hour.
“I know I’m a bit early,” the woman calls out in a reedy voice.
“That’s okay.” I shift my focus to her young terrier, its tail wagging. “This must be Jacqueline?” I let her sniff my hand in greeting.
“Yes! Jackie, for short.” Mrs. Perkins’s clouded blue gaze lights up with a mix of surprise and delight. “But I needed to talk to you.” Slowly, she lifts herself out of her chair and sets the dog on it with a soft command of stay, and then leads me a few feet away. “Your receptionist already said there were no men working here.” She speaks in a hush, as if afraid her dog might overhear. “It’s just that Jackie gets very stressed around male doctors and techs. Any men, really. I had such problems at the last clinic, with her shaking and vomiting and biting. The place was just too big, and they weren’t very accommodating.” Her wrinkled face furrows, as if with unpleasant memories.
I remember Cory mentioning the dog’s hatred of men. I resist the urge to ask who they went to. “As you can see, this is a very small clinic. It’s usually just Cory and me. My mother’s helping out this week because I have a lot of procedures. Occasionally, my father does help out, but only if I’m unreachable and there’s an emergency. He’s a retired veterinarian and lives next door, so he can get here pretty fast. But honestly? Other than the two weeks in March when I’m volunteering for the Iditarod, or a few days here and there when I’m out west helping in the villages, I’m always around.”
“Oh.” She frowns as she considers this. “Well, if, God forbid, something were to happen and we needed his help while you were away, do you think he would mind wearing this?” She checks over her shoulder once at the dog and then reaches into her purse to pull out a lengthy blond wig. “Bob wears it when he comes to fix things around the house and check on me. Bob’s a neighbor. He was good friends with my husband. Anyway, it’s been working. She even let him hold her!” She shrugs as if to say, who knew?