Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Win.”
“What are you doing up here, Win?”
Why is he making me talk when all I want to do is cuddle and forget my problems?
“I told you that already. Weren’t you listening? I was going to refuse, but then we decided to gather some info on the sly. But I’m not a sly spy. Just a guy who hates to lie.” I snort at my rhyme.
“I’m going to check for a concussion again when we get inside,” Grumpy Numpy grunts.
I pat his chest. That is, I think about patting his chest. I also think about slipping my hands under his jacket and getting a better feel for the hard body I’m pressed up against, but my limbs aren’t listening to me at the moment. “I don’t have one. I should know. I’m a teacher.”
He shifts me in his arms and I instantly feel more secure. Protected. “Do you teach medicine?”
I sigh. “Social studies.”
“That explains a few things. Though you don’t look old enough to be any sort of teacher.”
“You need glasses,” I grumble, ignoring the fact that he’s right because I basically stopped aging at seventeen. I’m told I’ll be thankful about my youthful appearance later in life, but I have my doubts. What if I’m like one of those child actors who plays a teenager for twenty years until they suddenly show up at fifty-five, trying to pull off the role of worried parent or weird priest in a made-for-television-movie, and the wrinkles and jowls on their baby faces freak you the fuck out?
Welcome to my brain. I wish I could blame a head injury for that.
“Are we there yet or are you lost now?”
“I don’t get lost. And you wouldn’t either if you stuck to the trail.”
First there was a cabin, now there’s a trail? And he doesn’t get lost? Hello, overconfidence. Being toted around by such an arrogantly mesmerizing sweet-and-sourpuss shouldn’t do it for me, but this guy is… Whew. I’d like to do it right back to him. Naked and in the first bed we can find.
Now you can fantasize? Worst timing in the world. You think the cold is only affecting your arms and legs? Imagine the size of your dick right now. Go ahead. I’ll wait.
That information is upsetting, but not a game changer, because my mouth is working fine and I have no problem going down for a good cause. Though the last time I did that, he ruined me for all other men.
Speaking of which… “Where did you go that night?”
He stops walking for a second and then drawls, “So you do remember me,” before starting forward again, going up what must be stairs. I see a porch railing and a roof cutting off the endless torrent of snow. Shelter. We’re here. Wherever here is.
“I guess you didn’t hit your head after all,” he continues. “I was worried you had a convenient case of amnesia. Like that time Serkan disappeared right before he married Eda.”
Or maybe I did hit my head, because holy shit, my interrupted hookup is talking about my favorite show. Does he actually remember me mentioning those names?
This has to be a dream. There’s no way he said that. No way he’s here. Why would he be here?
Maybe he was invited.
My heart stutters in sudden panic as I try to connect the most obvious dots. I’ve only seen him twice, first at the pub and now here. The two places only have one thing in common. It would be just my luck if the man I haven’t been able to stop thinking about was dating a Finn, and their relationship was serious enough for him to be invited to the big anniversary party.
Too bad I accidentally pass out before I can ask him.
CHAPTER FIVE
This isn’t the first time I’ve dreamt of baked goods, but the scent of warm, sugary goodness is too realistic and tantalizing to ignore. It’s also suspect, since my roommate can’t follow the directions on a tube of cookie dough and once set fire to our kitchen due to a midnight hot dog craving. Seriously, how do you ruin hot dogs?
That last thought drags me fully into consciousness, though I’m still weighing my desire to remain in bed like a slug versus my need to investigate and possibly call the fire department. It doesn’t smell like anything’s burning. Maybe Connor brought something home from our favorite bakery after practice. Did he have practice today?
I start to stretch, wiggling my toes experimentally, and flinch at the surprise stab of pain.
Ski lodge. Twisted ankle. Gorgeous-but-suspicious rescuer I almost had sex with once.
“Not his Yeti cousin,” I rasp, my throat dry and raw. As I rush to a sitting position, three blankets and two tiny creatures tumble off my chest and into my lap. “What the…?”
Big mistake. Way too soon. I cradle my throbbing head in my hands and try to make sense of my new situation.