Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Or filthy, depending on the literature one read.
He sighed and finally opened the door. “His name is Ryan, and if his boys are jumping on the bed, chances are he’ll join them.”
Oh my God, that was so funny. I giggled like a girl with a crush.
Ethan flicked on the lights, and with one switch, the place lit up.
I walked in, immediately caught by surprise. Wow, his home was beautiful—and very open. A large living room and kitchen shared the space past the entryway, and from here, I could see what I assumed was a bedroom door too.
Dark, polished hardwood floors. A big, cushy couch. Big flat-screen too, which was less of a shock. Exposed brick walls—like I had, only mine were white. Ethan’s home looked like a New York loft that went for millions. Tall windows, spotlights, and a lot of dark gray colors, mainly the couch and entertainment unit.
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, to be honest. But it wasn’t this.
“Your home is beautiful, Ethan.” I removed my shoes before I walked farther in.
The kitchen was the perfect size for two people to cook together. Tiny spotlights under the cupboards lit up the counter that matched the floors. The kitchen island had the same top. Dark green cabinets. I loved it. I loved warm, rich colors.
The ceiling was fairly high too.
“Thanks. It’s not the house I hope to buy one day, but I like it.”
A house, huh? That didn’t fit my profile for him. This loft definitely did.
“Go sit down. Relax.” He gestured at the couch. “I’ll prepare our food. If you wanna dim any lights, use the white remote on the coffee table. The other remote is for the TV if you wanna pick a show or a movie.”
Oof. A movie night with my personal trainer. Emphasis on personal… But the workouts were, of course, essential to my health. For instance, he was more than welcome to work me over in his bedroom. That sort of training could be on a five-times-a-week schedule.
Sometimes…I wished I could silence my thoughts.
“I am capable of helping out,” I felt the need to point out. “It’s mostly just an annoying headache.”
“Nah, that’s not how we roll here,” he replied. “Get comfortable. Kick up your feet. I’ll be there in a sec.”
Well, all right, then.
He headed to the kitchen, so I left my purse in the entryway before I made my way to the couch. A big, big couch. It was worth mentioning twice. Like, four or five people could sit here and probably watch games and eat pizza. It was deep too.
And comfy as all hell, I noticed as I sat down. Christ, I might prefer this to my own bed.
Ethan reappeared seconds later, seemingly aiming for the bedroom. “Not to brag, but it was me my sisters turned to when they were sick back in the day.” He continued as he ducked into the bedroom. “Actually, Willow will still come over sometimes and occupy my couch.” Then he was back with bedding and two pillows. “These are approved by an autistic chick who requires jersey material for her duvet and pillows.”
He tossed everything next to me on the couch, and I stared at it, then at him.
“Goodness, Ethan. This is how I’ll overstay my welcome. Be careful.”
He quirked a crooked smile. “I think I can manage.”
Okay, but could I?
He left once more, and I couldn’t help myself. I fanned out the covers and got comfortable against the cushions, relieved my clothes sat loose like pajamas. I could seriously fall asleep here.
If I closed my eyes for just a minute, maybe the headache would fade a little.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Ethan’s home, and let everything go. It was so nice to hear life around you. I wasn’t alone tonight. This terrific guy was literally taking care of me. Last time that happened, Brad had been alive, and it’d been so different.
CHAPTER 11
Natalie Nolan
Acouple of minutes later, the condo smelled like food. Tomatoes, cheese, oregano… I soaked it all up like a wonderful lullaby, with Ethan himself as the chorus.
I could not be more screwed if I tried.
The next time Ethan appeared, he wasn’t alone. He had two plates and a bottle of Coke Zero in his grasp, and I forced myself to sit up straighter.
“Did you wait tables through college?” I asked.
He chuckled. “No. I don’t think they stuff their pockets.” He turned slightly, revealing a second Coke Zero in the back pocket of his jeans.
I grinned.
“I bartended and kicked drunks out of clubs in my college days.” He set the plates down, and the drinks, then excused himself to change into a pair of sweats.
I eyed the food. It looked incredible. A small bowl of tomato soup on each plate, his mama’s baked ziti next to it, some chicken, and bread. Freaking perfect on a cold night like this one.