Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Stop it. We’re not going there. Not ever.”
“Mmm.” I catch him with his eyes closed, shaking his head. “That’s too bad. Not ever is a long time.” Peeking his eyes open, he asks, “You up for the challenge?”
Laying my head back on the cushion, I close my eyes, enjoying everything about this moment. “Guess we’ll find out.”
“We sure will.” Every word from his mouth feels like an insinuation of me ending up in his bed. No matter how deliciously naughty that idea is, I need to be careful. He’s a celebrity, and for him, notches on bedposts are a dime a dozen. I can be one of many, or I can safeguard my heart. But I have a strong feeling I can’t do both with him.
Dropping his feet to either side of the chair, he gives me that billion-dollar smile, looking happier than I’ve seen him, and asks, “Want to order dinner?”
“Absolutely.”
10
Shane
“I won’t be able to drive home if I have another glass.” She’s had one glass of wine and swings the wineglass out by the stem before bringing it back in to take the last sip.
Setting the bottle on the table, I say, “You could always stay.” No harm in trying. I’m lying to myself. There’s harm in trying with Cat. I can’t hurt her. I don’t want to, and if she stays, that will inevitably happen when I take off in the morning.
The fact that I want her to stay in my sanctuary makes me question if I’ve had one too many to drink myself. But I drink more than two beers when I’m out, so the effects shouldn’t be different at home. My bet is on her being the difference and not the alcohol consumption.
“I have such a long drive home, too,” she groans, sitting up. She’s taken ownership of that lounge chair since she arrived. She wasn’t lying earlier when she said she’d spend all her time out here if she had this to come home to.
“I can call a car to drive you home. You can return tomorrow to pick up your car.”
“You’ll be gone tomorrow. How would I get in? Climb the gate?” She tries to bury her curiosity in humor, but I’m on to her. There’s an attraction that she’s clearly denying. It’s written in how her eyes light up when they meet mine and linger on my body when she thinks I’m not looking.
“What if I gave you the code?” Testing the waters has never made me nervous until now.
She looks at me with disapproval written all over her face. “I’m worried about you, Shane.”
“Oh yeah? Why?”
“You shouldn’t be offering your code to every stalker you meet.”
I’m starting to think she’s testing the same waters I am. “I judged you too quickly.”
“Can’t be sure these days. It’s best to take it slow and get to know someone first.” She tips the glass back but receives a cruel reminder when not a drop falls out. Lowering it down, she says, “I should go.”
Between her, the beer, and the full stomach, I’m getting too comfortable in her company, and my thoughts are all over the place. “I’m not a relationship guy.” What the fuck am I saying?
She had just set her feet on the decking but doesn’t get up. Instead, with an empty plate in one hand and a wineglass in the other, she says, “I know.” She stands as if nothing was said at all and walks inside the house.
Maybe she’s doing me a favor by not making it a big deal. It was stupid to say anything, so I don’t know why I did.
I trail her inside and set my plate next to hers on the counter. Appearing to start washing them, she positions herself in front of the sink and turns on the water. I turn it off. “I can clean up after us. You’re a guest.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I reply with a grin and shake my head. “I’m sure.” Staring at each other in the smaller space of the cooking area, I’m at a loss for words with her. I want to warn her to stay away from me but turn around that message and have her stay. Am I lonely?
It’s not loneliness.
It’s Cat Farin.
She has me feeling differently about being home.
“It’s been fun to catch up,” I say, still feeling like she’ll believe the bad press if I don’t confess first.
She grips the edge of the counter, leaning back against it. “Why is this so awkward, Shane?” Tilting her head, she asks, “It’s been so easy between us—to talk, to spend time together, to deal with the marriage mess. And now . . . and now it’s not. Is it because we have to get a divorce?” She crosses the space between us, invading mine with full intention. “It’s just paperwork. I’ve said it before, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not asking for anything. In return, you’ll get your freedom back.”