Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
He laughs. “I’m sure it was so hard for her to say yes to spending time with you,” he says, then studies the charm a bit more. “Hold on, just a sec.”
He rises, retreats to the bedroom, and returns with his fist closed, wrapped around something. When he sits back next to me on the couch, he opens it.
I squeal. “It’s gorgeous! How can you not wear this every day? I would never take it off.”
He laughs, then kisses my hair as I fondle his Super Bowl ring. Diamonds and sapphires gleam on the massive piece of jewelry. “It’s like something a mafia boss would wear.”
“Yeah, only it probably won’t fit on your pinkie,” he says.
“I’ll stuff it with cotton or string or whatever and make it fit,” I say, running my fingers along the etching with the number of the game, the name of his team. It’s both gaudy and breathtaking. “I remember seeing you play in this game on TV,” I say, flashing back to a few years ago. “That catch you made.”
“Which one, sweetheart?” he asks, deservedly cocky. “I made a lot of catches in that game.”
I gawk at the ring. “All of them.”
Then, he takes it from my hand, like playtime is over. Except, it’s not. Gently, he wiggles it onto my thumb.
It fits perfectly. My grin is bigger than the sky. “I love it.”
“Looks good on you,” he says, then his gaze travels down to my rear. “Are you sore?”
“Only in the best of ways.”
He lifts up the hem of my shirt, whistling in admiration at the marks he left. “Glad we abandoned the picnic,” he says, with a sly smile. “But are you still hungry?”
“I think that hummus might be calling my name. Maybe the pie. We didn’t even break it open.”
Like it’s such a damn shame we took off early for our version of church.
“And the pie looked damn good,” he says.
“I got it at this cute little bakery near me earlier today. When I was out walking—” I bolt up upright. I can’t believe I forgot my love. “Shoot. I need to go.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, a line digging into his forehead.
“Gigi has been alone for a few hours now,” I say, then hustle around his living room, hunting for my clothes, my canvas bag, my purse. “How could I have nearly forgotten her? I mean, she can hold it for a long time—she’s trained and everything. I just meant I can’t stay the night.”
He moves swiftly into action, jumping up from the couch to join me. “I’ll get her,” he says, setting a hand on my arm as I’m grabbing my phone from the table.
I jerk my gaze toward him, my hand freezing on the device. “What?”
He tucks a finger under my chin. “You’re exhausted, baby. Stay here. Eat something. I’ll get your dog and bring her back to spend the night too,” he says. “If that’s okay with you?”
If that’s okay with me? Holy smokes. That’s more than okay. That’s next level. “You want to drive to my house, fetch my dog, and bring her here?”
His brow knits deeper. “Um, yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious that’s the sequence.
And it is.
But wow.
Just wow.
“Okay,” I say, feeling a little bubbly, then I give him the code to my garage and the keys to my car. “Use my car though, because she has a dog seat in the back with a seat belt and everything.”
Shaking his head in amusement, he says, “Of course she does.”
Then he leaves, and I lie down on his couch, where I stare at the ring a little longer, feeling fizzy.
Feeling wanted.
I reach for my phone, open it, and type out a message to Rachel. The date was amazing. Can’t wait to tell you about it.
I hit send, then I crack open a new book.
But before the heroine even bumps into the hot guy under a ladder, my eyes are floating closed, and I’m swimming off.
Someone is kissing me.
Someone is rubbing against me.
Someone is licking my mouth.
I stretch and open my eyes. Gigi is engaged in a full kiss attack. With a yawn, I push up on the couch, where I’m slathered in more canine love, whimpers, and where have you beens.
“I missed you too, girl,” I murmur. Then my gaze swings to the tiled floor. What’s that pink fluffy thing? A pillow? “Do you have shaggy pink couch cushions?” I ask, looking up at my man as he walks closer.
Gabe flops down on the couch next to me. “No. I got Gigi a dog bed for the night,” he says.
Silly boy. She sleeps on the human bed. But the gesture sends my heart into overdrive.
This man made me a picnic. Picked up my dog. Bought her a bed. Bruised my body in all the best ways.
I need a way to stop time and live in this moment forever.