Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“I don’t have any clothes or anything.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you can find a shirt and some sweats in my closet.”
Now he wants me to wear his clothes?!
Clearly tiring of me, he sighs and walks down from the porch with a directness I’m not ready for, stopping right in front of me. I have to look up to meet his eyes. “Take a shower or not, okay? Neither will bother me. Just make a decision before snow covers the ground, would you?”
Without another word, he grabs one of the big sheep by the fluff on its neck, making it baaaa in a way that gets the rest of their attention. As Bennett turns toward Tad’s, so do the sheep, and just like that, he’s off with the flock, leaving me in their wake.
Funny how they were so attached, and all it took was one strong hand from the scary macho man to change their minds.
“Can’t say I blame you,” I mutter in the direction of the sheep. For as much bad blood as Bennett and I have had, I’m still pretty sure I would crumble at the first sign of sexy manhandling. I have two unexpected but all-consuming kisses to thank for that.
He is your boss, you know.
I sigh. Maybe a shower is a good idea, and maybe I should make it a cold one.
I scramble toward the front door and open it carefully, calling inside for extra people I don’t know about or, I don’t know, monsters or something. “Hello?”
No one answers, which is good since Bennett is gone and Summer and Charlie are already in the studio. I’ve had just about as many Bennett-related surprises as I can take for a while.
It’s weird being in his house alone when I’ve never really been inside it before. Sure, the day I demanded this job and met Summer, I breached the front door and found my way into the hallway, but there’s so much more beyond that I couldn’t possibly have imagined.
I see tons of pictures of Bennett and Summer throughout the years. Some of them feature other familiar faces from town and some of just the two of them, but in almost all, Bennett showcases a huge and handsome smile. He looks more carefree—not entirely, of course, he is a grump after all. But there’s a happiness behind his eyes that you can’t miss.
That little girl is his everything, Clay’s words ring out in my head.
I choose not to dally too long on the photos and tiptoe across the rug in the living room, heading down the back hallway. I look in open doors, searching for a bedroom that looks like it belongs to the protein lover, and I finally find it at the very end.
It’s both clean and tidy, and almost impressively nondescript. There is no color, no touch of rugged bachelor, no personality whatsoever, just white walls, a black metal bedframe, and white linens.
As an almost interior designer, I think it’s as close to a blank canvas as I can imagine an artist having.
Especially him.
Since I started working for him last week, I’ve been studying all of his previous works rigorously. The internet is a vast source of knowledge, and what it’s taught me is very much at odds with Bennett’s bedroom. Artistically, he works conscientiously with color, mixing hues that are unexpected and oftentimes vibrant. I’m not surprised my wall painting made him consider hiring me, because while it wasn’t even in the same country of skill level he has, it was on point for the way he mixes colors.
Him having an all-white bedroom is just…weird.
Quickly, I move on from being judgmental and head for the attached bathroom. There’s still a little girl in the studio waiting for me, and I need to get my shit together.
I close the door and lock it, and then turn on the shower to let it heat up while I strip down. The air feels eerily chilly on my bare skin, and I know without having to think too hard that it’s more because of the owner of this bathroom than the temperature. To be honest, I’m still kind of sweating.
The spray feels good when I climb under it and close the glass door behind me. I wet my whole body down and soak my hair before grabbing the first product I find to start the process of cleansing the aura of sweat and sheep.
It’s a 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, and I am objectively horrified at the level of unbothered men can get away with. Still, I lather it up and put it in my hair before using the remainder to soap up my body.
Unfortunately for me, it doesn’t take long before I’m overwhelmed by the scent of Bennett.
I try to ignore it as I scrub, but this annoying, arousing ache starts in the lowest part of my belly. And the more I inhale through my nose, the more I’m reminded that I’m naked in Bennett’s shower. That I’m scrubbing myself with his soap. And that three nights ago, while he was kissing me, I came undeniably close to experiencing an orgasm at his hands.