Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
I’m lucky that I can, though.
I’ve never really thought about that shit before.
I’ve spent my whole life with a chip on my shoulder over my condition because it made me a target. Never thought about the fact that I’m lucky to live in a time where minor defects can be treated, and I can have a life as normal as anybody else’s.
Damn.
Maybe my outlook on life has changed lately.
I chuckle to myself, leaning against the steering wheel.
Considering I’m playing chauffeur to my girlfriend’s grandfather and fussing over mundane crap like my glasses instead of plotting how to catch and murder a billionaire, I’d say my outlook has changed a lot.
All credit goes to Talia Grey.
I won’t say the last few months with her have been easy and effortless.
I’m still struggling with bad habits.
To remember to be open.
To give back the same trust she gives me every day.
It’s a long goddamned process, unlearning the bullshit my abusive father and my brother’s death beat into me. I’m learning how to be human again.
She holds my hands and guides me every step of the way with the patience of a saint.
No, maybe it hasn’t been easy.
But in its own way, it’s been perfect.
Just like her.
The way she lights up when I stop by the shop after I get off my shift.
The way she’s just as happy to coax me to stay for dinner with her and Gerald as she is to let me spirit her away, whether it’s back to my place or wandering off into the woods for the weekend to camp, sight see, and scare the animals with the racket we make when we really get going.
For her, every camping trip feels like she’s seeing everything new.
I love her sense of wonder.
I love her.
Last weekend, it was a snap date night at the movies.
Our camping trip got rained out, early autumn squalls soaking the forest and sending us running back home early. Rather than give up and stay in, we headed over to Redhaven’s tiny theatre and bought tickets for every showing until closing time.
That’s when I found out my girl hides during horror movies, clinging to me and peeking past her fingers when the psycho starts swinging his knife.
She found out I doze off during documentaries.
The kids working at the theatre found out the easiest way to wake me up is by Talia kissing me, only for the seventeen-year-old usher to catch us making out and chase us out, laughing, so they could lock up.
You already know the rest of it.
We finished what we started in my bed.
Even the trip where we booked a little bed and breakfast in Greensboro had fresh surprises. I loved every damned minute.
Technically, it was a business trip for Talia. She was looking for a new supplier for a special type of red cedar, but there was no mistaking her pleasure in dragging me along to tour the lumberyard, chattering away about wood grain, cuts, and finishes.
Her love for the family craft shined through in every enthusiastic word and touch, even if most of it flew over my head.
I listened anyway, learning as much as I could.
If it matters to her, it’s important to me.
Sure, I could pay a little more attention sometimes when I can’t pry my eyes off her high-necked sweater—a staple of her wardrobe in the cooler months, along with turtlenecks—when I know what’s underneath it.
Her addiction to saucy pink lingerie is now complemented by the roses I add to her skin, dragging my mouth over her and making her bloom so sweetly for me.
She is my garden.
I still burn, too, remembering how I marked her up the night before when we almost broke the B&B’s bed, getting so sweaty we had to change the sheets before we could sleep.
She still blushes like it’s the first time.
Especially every time I give her that look.
And I fucking love that, too, along with a million other things.
Now is not the best time to be thinking about the fact that I can’t keep my mind off her legs, her peach of an ass. Fuck, that curve of her waist as it dips just below the full swell of her breasts, the way she always wears pastel-pink bras that turn her nipples into dark shadows of temptation—
A voice cuts in again.
The only man I’ll ever share her with calls my name, his voice distant through the car window.
I glance up as Gerald Grey waves to a nurse through the glass doors of the clinic, then turns to stroll down the walk toward me. The man looks like he’s aged backward ten years—spry, alert, energetic, his blue eyes calm and clear.
He hasn’t had more than one or two spells where he slips into the past in the last few months.
It's made Talia so happy.
And anything that makes Talia happy makes me happy, too.