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)
I glance into the shiny steel wall across from me to spot the difference from last August. “Oh, I’ve not been in the sun as much. It will lighten by the end of summer.”
“The end of summer. That’s what we were. Almost sounds like a song.”
“Maybe you should write it.”
“I already have. I just didn’t have the words until now.”
An alarm sounds, and the elevator lurches again, scaring me into holding the railing even tighter. “I think I need to sit down. My stomach doesn’t react well to sudden movements. Or dying in elevators.”
The alarm quietens, causing us both to look up. He says, “I didn’t know that about you.”
“Most people don’t want to die in elevators.”
A roguish grin slides onto his face, and it’s so obvious why he made the sexiest man edition again this year. “I’ve forgotten how funny you are.”
“A riot a minute. Anywho, I hate those rides that take you high in the air and then drop you. You bounce and go back up and then down and then up. It’s torture.” I slide down the wall, but he crosses the invisible barrier we had between us, dividing our safe spaces, rehearsing for when we’re in the office divorcing.
“You’ll get dirty on the floor. Would you like to sit on my lap?”
I’m both taken by his thoughtfulness and questioning his motive. Can they both exist equally? Or are they mutually exclusive? “You’ll get dirty as well.”
“I don’t mind. It’s for a good cause.”
I shouldn’t even be toying with this idea. Yet I can’t seem to stop myself when it comes to Shane. “My skirt?”
“And what’s in it.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting.” Just because you think it, Cate, doesn’t mean you need to say it. My goal was not to embarrass myself, yet I’m failing.
He doesn’t let more than two heartbeats go by before he says, “Sometimes we struggle to see what’s right in front of us.”
I hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten or how our hands touched on the railing. I didn’t notice that his pupils had dilated or his breathing deepened. But now I do. I see it all right in front of me. I just don’t know what to think of it. Or him.
“Are you going to sit, or are we standing here all day?”
Shane chuckles, maneuvering to the floor and settling against the wall. He pats his lap, and says, “Bring ’er in.”
I start to bend, wondering if I should flop onto his legs or get to my knees and crawl on top of him. “Bring what in?”
“Your ass. Park it right here, babe.”
Babe. It came so naturally that I swear the air got sucked right out of the elevator when we stopped breathing. As I fell onto his lap, we pretended it was never said. My ears heard it. My heart felt it. My soul clung to it, though it’s always favored romance over rationale, so I no longer trust it.
The elevator jumps, the lights flash above our heads, and the alarm starts again. I bury my head against his, closing my eyes and holding his neck. I don’t know what’s worse—an elevator on the fritz threatening our lives or being held by Shane like he still loves me when I reasonably know that’s not the case.
The elevator shifts, the lights now steady, and the alarm goes quiet as it starts moving again. There’s no time to pull apart before we reach the fourth floor, though there is a delay in the doors sliding open for us.
He asks, “Is this part of that karma you mentioned putting out into the universe?”
“I have no doubt.” He makes it hard to hate him when he has me smiling like we’re still friends. “I didn’t plan on being a part of the vengeance.”
Chuckling, he tips his head against the wall of the elevator. “I think you’re safe. And there’s still time for it to take me down.”
“I’m counting on it,” I reply with a gentle roll of laughter. “Preferably when I’m not in the vicinity.”
With a grin seated squarely on his face, Shane anchors his hand on the railing, pulling us both to our feet in one swift action. His other hand lingers on my hip. I look up, not sure what to say. I don’t care about his hand. I like his touch and his warmth. I remember it all so vividly, which makes me hate myself for being so easily manipulated.
He’s so tall in front of me. So tempting to cling to. . . I don’t because what’s the point? And because I got distracted enough to forget he has someone special in his life. This divorce isn’t coming out of nowhere.
I had fun . . . I’m still having fun.
Damn him.
Why did he go and ruin a good thing?