Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“I know, I know,” I say, but so far, so good.
Simon’s been a gentleman, maybe because we walked both our dogs when we returned home. Mine trotted the entire way, burning off his humping energy. Nearly killed me with his enthusiasm, but I’d switched from heels to flip-flops, so I was at least able to try to keep up.
Zamboni’s watching us too, albeit from the other side of the hot tub, keeping her eye on the humper. Smart girl.
The water’s nice and toasty as I step into the jacuzzi in my orange polka-dot bikini that Ford can’t stop looking at me in. I sink down into the welcoming tub, letting the water kiss my skin. I can’t complain about Ford’s hot tub attire—black swim shorts that give me a view of the ladder of his abs, the breadth of his chest, the strength of his arms.
It’s a good sight.
After he sets down an ice bucket with the bottle of champagne and two glasses on the edge of the tub, he sinks into the water too. As his abs disappear, I pout.
“What’s that for?” he asks.
“I was enjoying the view of Commitment and Discipline.”
His brow knits. “I thought it was Focus and Dedication?”
I shake my head. “Those are your biceps. I named your abs too.”
A smile tips his lips. “Right. I nearly forgot,” he says, then holds my gaze for a confident beat as the water gurgles around us. “Which means it’s about time we talk about Sexy Reno Guy.”
I knew this was coming. I’m glad he’s not mad though. “Champagne first,” I say.
He grabs the champagne from the ice bucket, then, as he holds the bottle above the water, he shoots me a panty-melting look—one that says he knows where my eyes will be. On him. After he removes the foil, he drapes a linen napkin over the neck. Holding the cork and cage, Ford slowly twists the bottle. “Gotta release the pressure gradually,” he says, in a smooth voice that’s making me think about other kinds of pressure.
Naturally.
That’s what he wants me to think about as he unscrews the cage but doesn’t remove it. With the napkin-covered cork and cage in one hand, he slides his other hand around the base, taking his sweet time and reigniting memories of how good he is with those fingers. Beads of condensation line his ropy forearms. Drops of water slide down his chest. I stare at his hands, a little shamelessly.
Oh, who am I kidding? I stare a lot shamelessly as he points the bottle toward the yard, and away from us and the dogs, twisting the bottle until the cork falls with a soft pop.
It lands in the napkin.
It’s not theatrical, but it ensures no dog freaks out from the noise. And my heart thumps harder because of that.
I fight off all the smiles as he sets down the napkin and the cork, then pours and offers me a glass. I take it, stealing a glance at Simon as I do. He’s now settled on the wooden deck, resting in the night air. Zamboni’s watching us, but her eyes start to float closed.
I’m wide awake. I feel as bubbly as the hot tub. As full of anticipation as the corked bottle moments ago.
Ford lifts the flute, his brows arching up. “A toast.”
“To living well?”
He smirks. “Yes. And to your podcast.”
And here we go. “To my podcast.”
He clinks his glass to mine, and I feel glowy and warm from both the temperature and his heated gaze. I watch him as he takes a drink. I do the same, then he sets down his glass. Slides closer on the bench, but not close enough.
My skin prickles and I want more. So much more than I should want, but I can’t think about shoulds and risks anymore. I left those behind at the board game store when Ford bestowed a fake kiss on me that wasn’t fake at all. When he spun tall tales about us that felt entirely true. When he had a blast rubbing in our happiness.
Most of all, I suppose I left the risks behind when he asked me on yet another date. Another fake one, yes. But a date, nonetheless.
He’s all darkened gaze and raspy voice as he says, “So, I’m Sexy Reno Guy?”
Damn, this man really likes foreplay. I’m all wet and I am wet. “Well, I named your muscles. Is this really a surprise you have a nickname too?”
A small laugh falls from his lips, then it fades. He’s a man on a mission. “What did you say about me on your podcast, Skylar? Tell the truth.”
It’s hardly a question. It’s more of an invitation to…confess.
My breath comes faster. My chest rises and falls. And I’m heating up so fast from his hungry stare. “That I’d been checking you out,” I admit.