Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“I was being stupid,” he muttered back. “Wasn’t the first time.”
I pulled back and cupped his face before kissing him on the lips. If we hadn’t been in public, I would have stayed like that longer, but as it was, people were already staring, and I thought I’d even seen someone with their phone out taking a picture.
I sat back down in my chair and we both reached for each other’s hands automatically. Apparently, Nine wasn’t finished talking about it.
“Um… I’ve never really been good at this kind of thing,” he began. “Like, I don’t really know why someone would…” He looked around as if worried someone would overhear us. When he continued, his voice was lower. “Would want to be with me like that. So that’s why I reacted that way when you said that.” He swallowed and steeled his jaw. “Part of me is waiting for you to tell me this isn’t real and you’re only joking.”
“I’m not. And it is real,” I said so fervently, it almost came out as a hiss. “But you have to understand I have similar fears.”
He looked surprised. “Why would you? How could you possibly think I was that good of an actor?”
“It’s not that. I worry that this is all a test, like you’re dipping your big toe into that cold river water out there to see if it’s swimmable. And you’re likely to decide it’s not.”
Again with the clenching jaw. It made his thick beard move in a way that woke my dick up even though we were having a serious conversation. “Cooper, I’ve been swimming in frigid rivers my whole life. I’m from hearty stock, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let a little cold water keep me from something this good.” He peeked up at me and gave me a small smile. “I’d make a joke about cold water and hot men right now, but I’m not that clever.”
I pulled our hands up to my mouth and pressed a kiss on his knuckles. “That was plenty good enough for me, Shakespeare.”
The familiar rumble of his laughter set me back to rights, like the world had been slightly off-kilter until that sound put it back on course. The rest of the dinner passed in the same comfortable, enjoyable companionship we were used to back home in the RV. We discussed the project, joked about some of the video clips we’d taken this week, and made a list of the groceries we needed to pick up after dinner. The more we talked, the more Nine finally relaxed and began to open up.
“You and your zucchini,” he said with a laugh.
I finished typing in the last of the grocery list items to my phone. “What? I like it. And we’re planning stir-fry. You can’t do stir-fry without zucchini and onions.”
“You should taste my zucchini.”
I glanced up at him in shock. Did Nine Winshed just make a dick joke in public? But his face didn’t indicate it had been a joke. “You make zucchini?” I asked.
“Yes, but I meant the zucchini I grow. In the garden.”
I set my phone down on the table. “I thought your family grew wheat.”
“They do. I’m talking about my garden. When I was in 4-H, my dad let me make a little kitchen garden out past the old tractor shed. I discovered I really liked doing it, so I’ve put one in every summer since then.”
I pictured teenage Nine working in a veggie patch in nothing but a pair of old blue jeans and work boots. I leaned my elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand. “Go on.”
He smiled and his ears turned a little pink. “I’m going to miss it this summer, that’s all.”
I sat back as someone stepped up to take away our plates. “You could put one in at the cabin.”
Nine sat back and stretched. I loved it when he did that at home because it gave me a chance to appreciate his broad shoulders and thick, muscled arms. But this was the first time I’d seen him do it in public where I noticed at least six or seven people actively appreciating the sight along with me. He was a very big man, so he was easy to notice. Plus, he was gorgeous and had a smoking hot body.
Instead of being possessive, I suddenly felt proud and privileged. He was mine. At least for the time being, I was the one who got to take him home and share a bed with him. I was the lucky bastard who got to snuggle up to the hairy, hot furnace of him and sleep safely protected in his arms every night.
Nine’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you smiling at me like that? You kind of look like a serial killer.”
“You’re a sexy motherfucker.”