Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
She bit her bottom lip, her blush deepening as she gestured to the oven. “Lasagna. I wanted to do something to thank you for taking care of me last night.” Her voice trailed off into a softer tone, embarrassment shading her beautiful green eyes. “I hope you don’t mind—I raided your kitchen. It felt like the least I could do.”
Warmth practically exploded in my chest at the thought of her cooking dinner like she belonged here. Which she did, even if she hadn’t realized it yet.
“You didn’t have to do that, baby. But it smells fucking amazing.”
She brightened instantly, her tension fading as she giggled. “Good. I figured I owed you at least one home-cooked meal for all the trouble.”
“You’re no trouble, Hadley.”
She licked her lips, and I debated whether to kiss her again when the oven beeped. I sat at the table and watched her move swiftly to the appliance, her curvy hips swaying alluringly. She donned a pair of mitts before opening the door and taking out the heavenly smelling dish. My stomach growled at the sight of the bubbling cheese on top, causing Hadley to burst into laughter.
“You made that from scratch?” I queried, impressed.
Hadley shrugged as she set the lasagna on a cooling pad. “I’ve always enjoyed cooking. Spatula?” I pointed her to the right drawer, and she continued. “My mother approved of the hobby since it would appeal to prospective husbands. Especially if they have to entertain at home.”
I frowned at the flat tone in her voice. She sounded like she’d memorized a brochure…or the description of an item being auctioned off. Which was probably more accurate than she realized. My hands clenched on my lap beneath the table, and I tried not to picture them around her mother’s neck.
She padded back to the table and started to clear her things, reaching carefully to gather her laptop and a scattering of notebooks and pens. My gaze caught briefly on the pages—notes from an online course she must’ve been studying for. But my eyes quickly drifted back to her, tracking every graceful movement of her body.
She dropped a pencil on the floor and bent to pick it up. When she straightened, she wobbled a little and put a hand to her head, her eyes clouded with pain.
“Easy,” I warned as I stepped closer, my hand brushing the small of her back to steady her movements. She looked up at me, something soft flickering in her eyes as I took everything from her grasp. “Don’t push yourself yet. You’re still healing.”
She sighed, looking a little sheepish. “Right. I keep forgetting because it only bothers me when my head moves quickly or I stand up too fast.”
“Give it a few days,” I murmured as I slid one hand around to cup the back of her head. I tugged lightly on her hair so I could take a closer look at her wound. “It’s looking good, though. Already a little less red than last night.”
“Does that mean I’m okay to drive?”
My mouth curved down at the edges as I dropped my gaze to meet hers. “Why?”
Hadley’s lips formed a cute little pout for a second before she wiped it away, and her mask fell neatly into place. “I have a thing tonight. A function my parents expect me to attend.”
The mention of her parents dragging her to some function made my blood run cold, my jaw clenching hard at the reminder that they treated her like a fucking show pony. Except ponies usually got a rubdown and treats after an event. I was willing to bet that most of the time, all Hadley got was a lecture on everything she could have done better.
My grip on her hair tightened, and though her eyes widened just a fraction, there was no fear, and she didn’t try to move away.
“Cancel it,” I ordered, my voice low and firm.
She blinked, her eyes widening slightly as surprise flitted across her expression. “Thayer, I can’t—”
“You’re still not steady,” I cut her off. It was an explanation, but my voice and expression made sure she understood this wasn’t a request. My free hand slipped under her shirt to rest on her waist, and my thumb brushed softly against the curve of her hip. “Stay another night.”
I expected her to push back, for the fire to flare in her stubborn eyes. And I’d already prepared to argue my point. Instead, she looked away briefly, as if weighing her options, then smiled almost shyly up at me. “Okay.”
Her quick compliance surprised the hell out of me, easing some of the tension from my shoulders.
“I can stay one more night.” It was obvious she still believed this was temporary, just another night for observation, and I didn’t correct her. Not yet. But deep down, I knew there was nothing temporary about this—she belonged with me. She wasn’t going home. Not tonight. Or tomorrow. Because she was home.