Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I have to force myself to step away from her to start on dinner. “Want a beer?” I ask her.
“I’d better not. I have to drive home.” She juts her bottom lip out in a pout.
“Eden, babe, it’s supposed to be like this for hours. I’m not letting you drive home in this nasty-ass weather when I have a bed upstairs that’s waiting for you.”
My bed, preferably, but I know she’ll take the guest room.
“Besides, the birthday girl deserves a beer to celebrate her big day.”
Her eyes soften, her shoulders relax, and she nods. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me today. Spoiling me.”
“Oh, I’m not done yet,” I remind her.
“When’s your birthday?”
“June eighth.”
She nods and taps her temple with her index finger. “Got it. Payback and all that.”
“Oh, no, I spoil you, not the other way around,” I argue.
She shrugs. “That’s what you do for those who are important to you. I know how precious those relationships can be, and I can do it if I want,” she sasses.
I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you can.” I smile and ignore the rapid beat of my heart inside my chest because she said I’m important to her. It’s been a long damn time since a woman has thought of me, the man, not me, the football player, as important. What she doesn’t know is that she’s important to me, as well. She’s slipped past my defenses without me knowing, and now, she’s rooted there.
She remains on the counter while I move around the kitchen, the quiet hum of the storm outside filling the pauses between us. Rain lashes against the windows, steady and relentless, like it’s determined to keep her here, whether she admits it or not.
Should I be thanking Mother Nature?
“You’re really okay with me staying?” she asks, softer now, more tentative, and I realize she’s yet to take a sip of the beer I handed her.
“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”
That eases something in her as she puts the bottle to her lips and takes a drink. She watches me for a moment, head tilted to the side. “I’ve never had a birthday like this. One where we celebrate all day long. It’s been nice. Thank you, Foster.”
“Well,” I say, grabbing two plates from the cabinet, “it’s an entire day to celebrate you. It’s been pretty perfect if you ask me.”
She laughs quietly. “You say that, but I know better.”
“Do you?” I arch a brow.
“Yeah,” she replies, eyes bright. “You’re just being nice.”
She’s wrong. I mean, I am being nice, but I’m not making today a big deal because of me. It’s all for her. I set the plates down and meet her gaze, the moment stretching comfortably between us. Outside, the storm keeps raging, but in here, everything feels unhurried, like there’s nowhere else either of us needs to be right now.
And that feels like more than enough.
“I’m a nice guy,” I tell her, “but we needed to celebrate you. Birthdays have never been a big deal to me, but today, I wanted your day to be special.”
“Foster,” she breathes, and I turn to look at her, my hands covered in pizza dough. “Any time spent with you is special.” She pauses for a beat, but quickly keeps talking before I can reply. “The universe must have known that I needed you.”
“You needed me?” I ask, my throat tightening, and it feels like a fist is gripping my heart.
She nods, suddenly shy, her gaze dropping to the counter between us. “Yeah,” she says softly. “You showed up when everything felt… routine. Boring. And then you make each day more exciting. You fixed the stagnancy of my life.” She laughs nervously.
Moving to the sink, I wash my hands, then dry them on a towel, buying myself a second before answering. The words land heavier than I expect. I hadn’t meant to be anything more than company on a stormy day, a distraction, maybe. But the way she says it makes it sound like something steadier. Something earned.
“I didn’t fix anything,” I say carefully. “I just like making you breakfast.” I wink. I’m invested in this woman, and that scares the shit out of me, so I downplay it all, thinking that will help keep these feelings locked tightly inside my chest.
She looks up at that, really looks at me, and a small smile curves her mouth. “Sometimes that’s the fix.”
“I knew my eggs were decent, but damn, babe, you’re giving me way too much credit,” I tease.
The thunder rolls outside, closer this time, rattling the windows. She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she leans back on the counter, arms holding her up on each side, like she’s decided this is exactly where she’s supposed to be. I quickly finish making the pizza, before I slide it into the oven, the familiar routine grounding me.