Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Don’t worry. Kelly and I are the sober ones tonight,” Leighton tells me before I have a chance to ask.
“Good. You know you can call me if you need me,” I tell them.
“Oh, we would never interrupt your crotch—I mean couch rotting.” Courtlynn cackles.
That makes us all laugh. She’s not wrong. “Have a good time. I can’t wait to hear all about it.” My sisters wave goodbye, and then they’re gone. I have no doubt that my night last night will become a part of theirs this evening, and I’ll definitely hear all about it.
I didn’t have much work to do today. I wanted to check on a few orders to make sure they’re on track for delivery next week, and I’ve answered a few emails. My head’s not in it. Not when all I can think about is Copeland. That’s been the constant since the day he rolled back into town, and I ran into him at his mom’s place.
Picking up my phone from my desk, I pull up my message thread with Copeland. I’m surprised he hasn’t reached out by now. My guess is that even though he wants to have this conversation, he’s dreading it, too.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m typing out a message and hitting send. Regret instantly hits me at the change of location. Do I really want him in my space? There are so many memories there of us together as kids.
* * *
Me: My place. 6 PM.
* * *
His reply is immediate.
* * *
Copeland: I’ll be there.
Copeland: I’ll bring dinner.
Me: That’s not necessary. This isn’t a date.
Copeland: We both still have to eat. See you at 6.
* * *
Dropping my phone to my desk, I bury my face in my hands and groan. I’m not ready for this. I’m not, but my heart still flutters knowing that I get to see him in less than three hours. Shit, I need to go home and get ready. Shutting down my laptop, I grab my things and head out the door.
My sisters are already gone. That means I have the house all to myself, and my sisters won’t question why I’m taking my second shower of the day and shaving all my bits and pieces that have been neglected for far too long. I mean, it’s spring, so we just went through the cold months. And since it’s been years since I’ve been with a man, I figured nobody was going to be seeing me in my birthday suit, so why not go natural for a bit?
Time to change that.
I take my time in the shower, letting the hot spray roll over me as I handle my business. After drying off, I apply moisturizer everywhere before getting dressed. I don’t want him to know that I tried too hard, so I opt for a pair of black leggings and a long-sleeved Hideaway T-shirt.
My hair is poker straight on a bad day, so all I need to do is blow-dry and brush it out, and I’m good. I apply some waterproof mascara, because I’m sure this conversation, wherever it leads, will involve tears, and some clear lip gloss. With one final look in the mirror, I make my way downstairs.
I light a candle to make the house smell good—not for him, but for me. It’s something our mom used to do all the time growing up, and it’s a habit that’s stuck with all four of us girls. I have no doubt Baylor does the same at her place in New York, and if and when any of us venture out to our own places, we’ll do it there, as well.
I’m too nervous to sit, so I unload the dishwasher and wipe the counter that doesn’t need to be wiped down. It’s better than sitting and watching the clock. At five minutes before six, there’s a knock at the door. I pause, pull in a deep breath, and slowly exhale before my bare feet carry me to the front door.
With a hand on the handle, I freeze. I count backward from ten, just as another knock sounds, and I tug open the door. Copeland stands there with a bag from the local diner in his hands. He’s wearing faded jeans, his cowboy boots, a flannel that’s hanging open, and damn him for the fucking cowboy hat. He knows how much I loved him in that hat. It looks a little different right now because his hair is so short, but in time, he’ll look like the old Copeland, just a little older.
And sexier.
“Hi.” I wave because, of course, I’m going to be awkward around him, and step back, allowing him to enter. “It’s just us. My sisters, well, two of them, went to the Hideaway. Baylor is living in New York. Chasing her dreams of big-city life.” I laugh nervously.