Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
This is it; this is where we need to be.
Together. Just me and her against the world.
And just like that, I have a plan…
Chapter Five
Dipsy
Another mirror, another chance to talk some sense into myself…
But as I stand in the changing room at Plane Potato, an athleisure store specializing in comfy travel duds, I’m too surprised by my reflection to bother.
“You’re right.” I raise my voice to be heard on the other side of the canvas curtain separating the changing space from the rest of the store. I laugh, smoothing my hands over the green velvet tracksuit jacket and matching pants. “It looks awesome.”
“I told you,” Bear answers from somewhere outside. “I’m cracked at fashion, woman. Here, try this on.”
More clothing sails over the curtain, landing on my head. I laugh again as I collect the items—a bulky cream cable-knit sweater and a pair of gray cashmere pants. The sweater is comfortingly heavy with a beautiful texture, and the pants are so butter soft, they make me want to curl up and snuggle with them on the floor. I reach into the waistband, looking for a price tag, but can’t find one.
“Don’t worry about the price,” Bear says, reading my mind with eerie precision. “They’re on sale.”
“How deeply on sale?” I ask, running my fingers down the silky fabric. I shouldn’t even try them on, but they’re so soft, I can’t resist.
“Super sale,” he says. “And if you like them, it’s on me.”
“No way. I have money, and I’m the one who decided I couldn’t stand another second in elf gear.” I fight a moan as I pull the lush pants up to my waist. “Wow,” I say, my voice breathier than it was before. “These are really nice.”
“Kind of like your legs are wrapped in the fur of a hundred whisper-soft kittens, right?” he rumbles from the other side of the curtain.
“Exactly.” I grin as I tilt my head closer to the canvas, enjoying the stolen moment. Here, behind the curtain, it’s okay to let my guard down. I don’t have to watch my expression or try to force my body farther away from Bear’s on the tiny scooter seat.
Here, I can just feel what I feel…as bittersweet as it is.
I can’t let this thing with Bear go any further than it has already. Laying my cheek on his strong back while he drove was okay. I can chock that up to needing comfort after the trauma of seeing a baby alligator playing in a bowl of Chex Mix like it was the ball pit at a kid’s birthday party. But anything more than that would be a mistake, a big mistake. Bear’s life is headed one way, my life is headed in another. Falling for each other would only cause us both unnecessary pain.
I know this deep down in my bones.
Still, it’s probably okay to whisper, “I think I’ve developed an instant and profound addiction to cashmere. You’re going to turn me into a junkie, Hanson.”
He chuckles low in his throat. “Well, there are worse things.”
“Worse things than being a girl on a polyester budget with luxury wool tastes?”
“The polyester budget is only temporary. You’re going to ask for a raise, citing the popularity of your segments. And if you don’t get it, you’ll put together a reel and start applying at other news stations.”
I hum uncertainly. “I don’t know about that. Sounds like a good way to get fired.”
“Good. If you get fired, it’ll give that extra push you need to find a better job.”
“I guess.” I slide the jacket off and the wool sweater on, breath catching as my head emerges from the top. “Wow.”
“Nice?” he asks.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say, running my hands over my slightly fuzzy hair. “I thought I was too pale to wear white.”
“It’s not white, it’s cream,” he says. “That makes all the difference.”
On impulse, I open the curtain. Bear turns from the sweater display a few feet away, glancing at me over his shoulder. His green eyes widen, then narrow on mine, making the temperature in the store shoot up several degrees.
He shifts around on his crutches, leaning against the shelves behind him as his gaze rakes up and down my frame. “Stunning.”
“Thanks,” I say, my cheeks heating. “So, how did you become so wise in the ways of women’s clothing? Ex-girlfriend who used to make you go shopping?”
He shakes his head. “No. From flipping houses. Beautiful redheads and Victorian cottages have more in common than you’d think. Paint enough walls and choose enough fabric and you develop an eye for what colors complement each other.”
Forcing my giddy thoughts away from how much I enjoy hearing Bear tell me I’m beautiful, I cock my head, considering him. “You’re a man of hidden talents.”
“I also play a mean kazoo,” he says in a seductive rumble as he bobs his brows goofily up and down.