Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I’d been convinced to leave most of my stuff at the motel, everyone assuring me that Jack would make sure it was safe without me.
And I guess the club had paid it up for the next week.
Or, more accurately, Colter had. Since he’d been the one talking to Jack when I’d come out of my room, ready to head over to the clubhouse to get on the road.
I meant to be a bitch to him. I’d given it a valiant try for the first hour or so of the day.
But the damn guy just never rose to the bait.
Which was in stark contrast to the man who had another man by the throat and would seriously have killed him if I hadn’t stepped in.
“I’m good,” Colter said, handing me a coffee. “Black, three of those yellow packets,” he said, answering the question in my eyes.
I’d never even told him that. He’d just seen me get it when we’d stopped at the gas station in Shady Valley to fuel up and we’d gone inside for road snacks.
“Yeah,” I said, taking it. Then, a little lower, “Thanks.”
“The yellow shit doesn’t raise blood glucose, right?” he asked.
Had he… been researching diabetes?
Because of me?
And if so, how did I feel about that?
Seen, a little voice said. Understood.
“Yeah. I used to like my coffee regular. But I learned to like it black with the packets. I figure, eventually, I won’t even remember what it used to taste like.”
“It’s good that you can keep some of life’s simple pleasures without having to inject.”
“Yeah. Hence this,” I said, reaching over to where he had a diet soda tucked in the crook of his arm. It was all I’d asked for. But the coffee was welcome. As was the little container of precut apples and peanut butter dipping sauce he’d grabbed.
Seeing me eyeing it, he handed it over. “Figured we wouldn’t be stopping now, and we’ll be running past dinner time.”
“Thanks.”
“You can’t have my pistachios,” he said, shaking the snack-sized bag.
“Wanna bet?” I asked.
“Fine, I’ll share.”
“You give in easily.”
“You’re hard to say no to.”
The second it was out of his mouth, we both knew it was the exact wrong thing to say.
Because over the last few hours of being stuck in a small cabin together, we’d come to a truce. We’d even chatted casually here and there when I wasn’t napping or singing along with the radio.
But that comment just brought it all back.
Unexpectedly, the sting of the rejection felt just as sharp as it had when it first happened.
“Dylan…”
“Let’s go then. I want to get to my hotel room,” I said, turning and walking back toward the passenger side of the truck.
Syn was just making his way back from taking Sugar for a walk to stretch out both their legs.
“Thanks,” I said, having done the first two walks alone with her.
“She sniffed all her pee-mails,” he said, shooting me a smirk.
“Good job, girl,” I cooed at her before getting her in the truck.
Then I went ahead and cranked up the radio just loud enough to make conversation impossible and spent the next twenty minutes sipping my coffee and picking at my apples and peanut butter. Before, eventually, pretending to take yet another nap.
And maybe eventually I did actually drift off.
Because I assumed Colter would have tried to call my name first. But what woke me up was a hand on my thigh.
I jerked awake, a little disoriented that it was dark out when it had been sunny what felt like just moments before.
“It’s alright,” Colter said, his voice soft. “You were really out,” he said as my gaze slid down, looking for Sugar, who’d been asleep with her head on my lap. But she was gone. “I handed her off to Saint and Syn to walk ten minutes ago.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I just did,” he said.
His hand was still on my thigh. The placement was just an inch too high to be a fully casual touch. And damn if my sleepy body didn’t just thrill at the idea of it slipping just a few inches higher and inward.
My thighs pressed together. And the way his eyes went a little more heavy-lidded told me he knew exactly where my mind was right then.
His fingers tightened.
My breath hitched.
But then he pulled his hand away.
“Let’s go check out our rooms,” he said, turning, grabbing the keys, and climbing out of the truck.
Alone, I slammed my head back into the rest, taking a few slow, deep breaths. It was no use. The desire was already flooding my system. It was the buzzing sensation just beneath my skin, the heavy pressure on my lower stomach, the way I was hyperaware of the brush of my clothes as I moved.
“Get a grip,” I grumbled to myself before gathering my bag and Sugar’s stuffed animal before climbing down.