Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
The moment stretched, elastic and charged. Her fingers lingered on my skin, warm and impossibly soft. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched me like this. With care. With something that looked dangerously close to tenderness. Then awareness seemed to slam into her. I saw it happening, watched her eyes widen as she realized what she’d done. She snatched her hand back like my skin had burned her, color flooding her cheeks in a rush that made the slight smattering of freckles scattered across her nose stand out.
“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out fast, breathless. “I didn’t mean to -- I shouldn’t have --”
She pushed against my chest and this time I let her go. Released my hold and stepped back, giving her the space she suddenly seemed desperate for. But I watched her face carefully, needing to make sure she was truly all right. She didn’t look scared. Not the way people usually looked when they realized they’d gotten too close to me, when they remembered my reputation or the violence I was capable of. Cora looked intrigued. Her gaze kept darting back to mine, curiosity and unabashed interest bright in those blue eyes despite the embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She looked like someone who’d discovered something unexpected and wasn’t quite sure what to do with the information.
“It’s from prison.” I pointed to my scar. I don’t know what made me volunteer the information because I never talked about Terre Haute. But I wanted her to know. Wanted her to understand exactly what she was dealing with. “A fight. Six years ago.”
She absorbed this with a slow nod, processing. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, a nervous gesture that drew my attention to her mouth. “Did the other guy look worse?”
The question surprised a sound out of me. Not quite a laugh, but I felt my lips tugging upward. I don’t think the smile made it very far, but I couldn’t be sure. “Yeah.”
“Good.” She gave a satisfied nod, as if my answer was exactly what she’d expected to hear.
We stood there in the kitchen entrance, broken eggs congealing between us, awareness humming in the air like a physical thing. Then she seemed to shake herself, looking down at the mess we’d created. “Shit.” She crouched, reaching for a piece of shell. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for these.”
“No.” I moved to the storage area where cleaning supplies lived, returning with paper towels and a small bucket. “You won’t.”
I knelt beside her, and we worked in silence. The task should have given me something to focus on besides the tension stretched between us, but I was pretty sure not filling the void with conversation only enhanced my awareness of her. And wouldn’t my brothers have a laugh if they found out I actually considered getting chatty?
“You always this helpful?” Her voice held a lighter note now, teasing almost.
“No.” The truth came out flat, honest. I shrugged to take away any sting I might have caused her. “But I think I like you. I help people I like.”
She smiled at that, a small curve of her lips that transformed her face. Made her look younger, less guarded. “I feel special?”
I met her gaze directly, letting her see the sincerity. “You should always feel special.” There. I managed to string more than three words together. Progress.
The color returned to her cheeks, deeper this time. She looked away first, ducking her head and letting the thick wave of auburn curls partially cover her face.
We finished the cleanup quickly after that, disposing of the ruined eggs and soiled paper towels. “Um, I should get going.” She hiked a thumb over her shoulder. “Will I see you next time?”
I moved to the counter where I’d left the envelope earlier. The brothers had pitched in again, probably more than was reasonable. But no one had objected when Hannah suggested increasing the amount. I walked back to where she stood near her car, envelope in hand. She watched me approach, her hand on the door handle, but she didn’t get inside the car.
“Yours.” I held it out.
Her eyes widened when she felt the weight of it. “This is too much.”
“No.” I kept my voice firm. “It’s not. Everyone chipped in. They’re grateful.” I cleared my throat and swallowed. “Me, too.”
She stared at the envelope, then back at me. Something worked behind her eyes, emotions I couldn’t quite read. Finally, she nodded, tucking the envelope into her back pocket. “You guys order a lot?” The question came out casual, but I heard the real question underneath. Will I see you again?
“We do. Your first delivery was the only time anyone ever showed up. Usually gets cancelled for us after a couple hours.” I paused, knowing I should leave it there. Knowing I should let her go without pushing, without revealing too much of the desperate hope that had taken root in my chest. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “You planning to keep taking our orders?”