Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Instantly, relief rolls through me.
“And,” she adds, smiling over at me, “I haven’t exactly been on the rodeo circuit lately, so I’m, you know, clean.”
“Well, that makes two of us.” I huff out a short laugh. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.” After the truth leaves my lips, something in my chest stirs and memories threaten to flood my brain, but I force them back to the deep recesses before they can bubble to the surface.
“Yeah?” she asks, outright surprised. “Could’ve fooled me. I’ve seen the way half the women in town look at you.”
I eye her with a teasing quirk of my brow. “Looking and doing are two very different things.”
“Well, then.” She grins, trailing a finger down my chest. “Guess I’m just lucky, huh?”
“Woman, pretty sure I’m the lucky one here,” I say, catching her hand and kissing her knuckles.
The truth is, I am the lucky one out of the two of us. Lucky she even walked through my door. Lucky she’s in my bed. Lucky a woman like Breezy would waste a single night on a broken man like me.
This might just be a fling, a distraction, a hell of a night, but I’ll catalogue it as a fleeting period of time when I let myself feel good.
I know it’ll have to end soon, but right now, I let myself savor it—the ease, the laughter, the way it feels so damn uncomplicated.
Just another amazing night with a beautiful woman who’s way out of my league.
It’s nothing more than that. Because with a guy like me, it can’t be.
16
Breezy
Wednesday, January 20th
I can’t remember the last time I slept through the night.
Not since the funeral. Not since the will-reading. Not since my whole life tilted sideways and everything I thought I’d built turned out to belong to someone else.
But last night…last night, I did.
No tossing. No turning. No recounting all my life’s choices. No staring at the ceiling until my eyes burned. Just…sleep. And I just so happened to do it in Tad Hanson’s bed.
When I finally blink awake, sunlight is cutting through the curtains, and Tad is standing at the side of the bed, holding out what looks to be a to-go cup.
“Mornin’,” he says, his voice is raspy in a way that has memories of last night rushing into my mind. “This is for you.”
“Uh…thanks.” I sit up, taking it from him and brushing my hair out of my eyes. Once the to-go cup is in my hands, the smell of fresh coffee hits my nostrils.
“Hopefully, it’s good.” He shifts awkwardly on his feet, eyes darting from me to the floor and back again. “Wasn’t sure how you like your coffee, but I remembered you ordering it with some sugar and cream at CAFFEINE.”
I take a sip. It’s hot, smooth, and about three spoonfuls too sweet. A smile tugs at my lips. “You went a little heavy on the sugar, Farmer Tad.”
He grins and rubs the back of his neck. “Guess I was trying to sweeten my odds.”
The line earns him a tiny laugh, but the moment still feels…off. The coffee might be sweet, but the to-go cup tastes a lot like goodbye.
His broad shoulders tense, as if he’s waiting for me to get dressed and head out, and I guess normally, I’d already be gone. I think he’s surprised I’m not.
Pretty sure the to-go cup is a hint, Breeze.
“I’m glad you were here last night.” His words are soft and unexpectedly sweet, but his back is tense. He clears his throat. “And…this morning, too.” The last part comes out so discreet that I almost don’t hear it, and he’s angled to the door so hard, I’m surprised he didn’t take the opportunity while I was sleeping to strap on my shoes.
Mixed signals, thy name is Tad Hanson.
Regardless, the time to get going is now, and Norah and Bennett will undoubtedly be wondering where I am. I don’t owe anyone explanations, but if the roles were reversed, I would be worried. By the time I’ve tugged on my sweater and slipped into my boots, the air between us feels even more baffling. It’s like he’s two different men at the same time. One wants me gone, and the other seems to be searching for a reason to ask me to stay.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and head into the living room. Tad follows closely behind me, and we both stop and turn toward each other in an awkward dance of goodbye. This part, it seems, is definitely easier when I leave before he wakes up. I pat his arm and turn for the door, but Randy swings it open with so much force I jump back in surprise and bump right into Tad’s chest.
“Tad! Get your ass out here!” the other Hanson yells, having unleashed the command before his vision could catch up.