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)
Dumping the cooler on the floor, he stands back up. “The floors are wood.”
“Designer wood floors are not the same thing.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” He wipes the back of his wrist across his forehead. “We’ve always called it the cabin. I guess it’s more of a lake house.” Resting his palms on the edge of the stone counter of the island, he says, “Sorry if you’re disappointed.”
“Disappointed? This is a dream retreat. I’ll take this every day and twice on Sunday over a creepy-crawly cabin. I’m more of a hotel than a camping girl.”
He bends down and opens the cooler, but I hear him mumble, “I know what I’d like to take twice on Sunday.”
“What was that?” I tease.
Standing, he twists the cap off a bottle of water and downs half. “What were we talking about?”
“You said you would like to do something twice on Sunday. What do you want to do?”
His eyes steer to the window behind me, staring out as if I’ll give up if he avoids eye contact long enough. Tapping the bottle to the countertop, he says, “I think I’ll finish unloading the car now instead of leaving it for later.”
“Yeah,” I say, laughing. I turn around and watch him hurry out the door. I watch as he treks across the ground to where he parked the car on a concrete pad. Sitting in the passenger’s seat, he keeps one leg propped out and tucks the other inside.
Leaving my suitcase where it is, I walk closer to the window, being nosy. I stand off to the side and watch as he stares ahead.
It took a lot for him to share his feelings with me. I know it’s not something he’s comfortable doing. That’s why I’m here. I see him trying, and it makes me feel special. Shane has a way of making me feel like I matter to him. I’m not sure what caused the change since he left last August, but I can’t keep setting off the same dynamite sticks.
He’s doing the work. I need to do the same.
I double-time it to the door to open it for him when he starts back with another large cooler. “We’re only here two days,” I say, trying to lighten his mood.
I close the door behind him and follow him to the kitchen. He sets the cooler on top of the other. “I tried to be prepared.”
When he stands back, he turns to find me waiting for him. Questions populate in his eyes, pulling his brows, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I stand there like I do. I want to touch him, to ease the burden he’s trying so hard to hide from me. So I do.
I reach up and run my fingertips over his jaw, then higher along his temples. I lick my lips, watching as he does the same. Holding my wrists with a gentle touch, he leans into my hand and dips his lids closed for a few seconds.
When he opens his eyes, I whisper, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I’ve failed, placing the blame on him all this time. “For extorting you to come on this trip?”
He chuckles. Taking one of my wrists, he lifts and turns the inside toward him to kiss. And then again, with a little dip of his tongue running along my veins.
“Yes,” I reply breathily, a surefire sign of how this man affects me. “And torturing me with a beautiful lake and stunning scenery, coolers of food, and—”
“And?” he whispers with his lips running over my wrist once more. He places a final kiss, then smiles at me. It’s not a smirk. No sign of arrogance is found in the softer corners. The gesture is reassuring. Comfort at the simplest level. But his expression holds conviction that has me gravitating even closer to him.
His light cologne sweeps through the air. I take a deep breath, wanting to touch all parts of me any way he can. “I’m sorry, what?”
Laughter follows as he releases me, leaving me to drift into the ethos under the aftereffects of his sweet kisses. “You were saying how this will be a total drag of a weekend.”
“Right. Just horrible.” I laugh, moving away from him. I must, or I’ll end up rotating in his orbit all weekend. As I take hold of my suitcase, it’s become obvious that I will never survive this man.
“Let me show you your room.” He swipes the case, rolling it right out from under my hand while taking my other hand. I can’t lie; his confidence is a major turn-on.
Down the hallway on the left, he opens the only door and moves inside before turning around and pointing out the highlights. “I thought the suite was best for you. There’s nice light and a comfortable bed.” Inviting blankets and puffy pillows cover the mattress. I’m holding his hand, the callused fingers of a musician, his strong hold protecting me even when I have nothing to fear, and wrapping around my hand so gently but firmly that the idea of sleeping alone just became a lot less appealing. His gaze travels over my shoulder. “There’s a bathroom for privacy with a big soaking tub. I remember you like taking baths.”