Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to,” he says, and now he sounds more awake.
“I’m already stopping for myself, so I’ll just get you stuff also.” I mean, I was going to have to stop, ignoring that I planned on having leftover pizza tonight.
“I don’t want you to just dump and go,” he tells me.
“Aww, aren’t you sweet? Are you asking me to have dinner with you?” I joke with him, laughing. “I mean, I thought we established that you just don’t cut it for me.”
“Hilarious,” he tells me. “You know, if the real estate thing doesn’t work out, you can always work as a comedian.”
“Whatever,” I say and hang up on him. After the driver stops at the place around the corner from my place, I think about going home and changing, but I veto it, expecting to just dump and go. When the car drops me off, I bring in the big bag of soup and then grab the other bag with assorted sandwiches. I didn’t call him, and when I buzz, it takes him a bit to finally let me in.
“Sorry,” he says to me when I make it to his front door and then see him in shorts and nothing else. He’s walking with crutches under his arm, but all I can do is take in his perfectly sculpted body. I don’t think I notice anything else. I don’t take in the couch where it looks like he’s been sleeping or that the lights are dim. I notice nothing but him. The way his back muscles ripple while he uses his crutches to get to the counter. “I don’t know where you want to eat,” he says. After blinking a couple of times, he looks over at me, and his eyebrows are pinched together. “Are you okay?”
“Um …” I snap out of my daze. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch, and I’ll bring the soup over?” I tell him, walking into the apartment and slipping off my shoes. “And if we can maybe turn on some lights, so I can see,” I tell him, and he just stands there at the counter.
“Whatever you want to do, we can do,” he says, smirking.
“Also, maybe put a shirt on in case you spill the hot soup.” And I about groan as soon as the words come out of my mouth, but I don’t face him. I put the bags on the counter, and then slip off my jacket. “Or not if you’re good with burn marks.” I look up and see the twinkle in his eye for the very first time.
“Does me being shirtless bother you?” he asks. I really fucking hope I don’t drool all over his floor.
Instead, I roll my eyes at him, avoiding his eyes. “Did the puck hit your head after your foot?” I ask him, turning my back on him and grabbing two bowls. “Leave it off. It doesn’t really bother me,” I tell him, grabbing the tub of warm soup. I open the cabinet and take out a pot to put on the stove. I hear the stool scrape the floor and then look at him.
“I would help, but I only have one foot,” he says, turning and then putting the injured foot on the stool next to him. “Fuck,” he hisses.
“Are you okay?” I ask him, and he just nods. I turn and start the stove, emptying the container into the pot. “I got sandwiches.” I point at the paper bag on the counter next to him while I grab a spoon to stir the soup. “I got a couple of different ones since I don’t know what you like.”
He opens the bag and takes out some of them. “What is your favorite?” he asks me, and I look over my shoulder at him.
“I’m good with just soup,” I tell him, grabbing a bowl and then filling it up. “How much soup do you want?” I ask him and see him taking a bite of the sandwiches, and he moans. “I take it that’s good.”
“I haven’t eaten today. I tried to order something and then gave up,” he says, and I put the plate in front of him. “Then I napped.”
I sit on the empty stool next to him with my own soup. “I love this soup,” I tell him. “When I got sick last year, Zara got it for me, and I was waiting for the fall to come, so I can ask her where to get it.”
“Glad my injury could help in a way,” he tells me, laughing while he takes a spoonful of soup.
“Well, he did score an empty net goal because of it.” I look over at him, and he gives me the side-eye.
“I thought you didn’t watch hockey?” he says, and I have to really think fast.
“I turned on the television and was working, and I didn’t realize I didn’t change it from when Zara was over. When I looked up, you were looking like you were proposing to Evan.”