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)
I freeze indecisively outside of the barn door.
I can do this. And I need to do this. If he’s regretting my continued presence or my potential expectations, I’ll handle it. I’ll tell him what I told Bex. I don’t do dating or relationships. It’s not my thing.
He’ll be relieved. We’ll laugh about it. And then we can go back inside and play Scrabble and hopefully get another orgasm in before some plow guy comes to free us from the one-night stand that won’t end.
With anyone else, I wouldn’t be lying. But with Michael? Yeah, pretty sure the only person I’m fooling is myself. But he never needs to know that.
When I see him, he’s digging through his rental car and swearing at himself. This time in English. “Where the hell is it?”
“Anything I can help you with?”
He hits his head on the interior roof before finding me with his gaze. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”
“Looking for the guy who went out for wood and never came back.” I give him a quirky grin, inwardly cheering when his expression warms. He doesn’t look unhappy to see me. “It’s still snowing, and I was worried I might have to rescue you this time.”
He runs a hand through his short hair, wincing at the tender spot he just gave himself. “I thought I’d give you a little breathing room to have breakfast and talk to your friends. When I finished chopping firewood, I decided to come in here. I can’t find the DVDs.”
“What DVDs?”
“The show you like.” He makes a face. “The weather channel says this won’t let up until tonight, and I worried it might upset you to be stuck here for that long. I thought if I could find them, you could show me your favorite episodes, and I could teach you a few words in Turkish.”
Is this guy even for real? He wasn’t lingering outside because he was regretting last night. He was worrying I’d wake up regretting it and trying to find a way to make me more comfortable. Giving me time to vent to my friends. Shivering in this barn while he tried to find a show I’d randomly mentioned once. Or twice. What is he even doing with a copy?
Did I just have a revelation? Is the dragon a not-so-secret cinnamon roll, with his tiny dogs, his fancy cookies and his kindness? Have I temporarily shacked up with a closet romantic?
On a normal day I avoid that particular species like the plague. But nothing about any of this is normal.
“Sounds good to me,” I tell him, enjoying the surprise on his handsome face as I walk over. “The company is stimulating and I did promise to be a taste tester today. And if you have a computer with internet access and don’t mind being on a watch list or dealing with weird commercials, we don’t need the DVDs. I know exactly where to find the show online.”
He gathers the ends of my scarf in his hands and tugs me closer. “Stimulating?”
“You didn’t hear the part about the watchlist did you?” When he doesn’t respond, I nod and lick my dry, chilly lips. “Highly stimulating. Exceeding all expectations. If I had my gold-star stickers handy, you’d be getting one.”
He raises a brow. “Only one? I’ll need to work on that.”
This morning-after kiss doesn’t taste perfunctory or feel like a goodbye. It’s more a “The smashing is about to commence” early warning system that wakes up all the relevant parts of me when he presses me against his car.
I moan in reaction. Hot damn, neither one of us is ready for this to be over yet. Am I really considering what Bex suggested? Just giving this a chance and seeing what happens? No CYA? No Hover of Shame in sight?
Michael’s hand is working on my sweatpants when I grip his wrist.
He raises his head. “You want me to stop?”
Not even a little bit. “I want us to hit pause long enough for me to get a bath or a shower. I can barely stand to be around me at the moment and I wouldn’t mind being clean for…whatever comes next. Would you mind joining me back inside and helping me up the stairs?”
I’m not an eyelash-batting kind of guy—unless I’ve put on actual eyelashes meant for batting—but I give it a shot, and my payback is his broad, brilliant smile.
“I can do better than that,” he tells me.
I bet he can.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I found Epsom salts and the only bubbles that don’t smell like fake flowers in the cupboard. Something called lemon grass and ylang ylang.” Michael’s hand on my back is warm and sturdy as he guides me into the bathroom. “We’ll unwrap your ankle for this. I think the salts should bring down any swelling.”