Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Want to move to the couch? We can watch a movie,” I say.
She nods, and we get up to clear the table.
God, she fits so perfectly into my space.
When I shut the dishwasher after loading it, Kelcie clears her throat and asks, “What are your plans for Thanksgiving?”
“The same as every other day.”
She seems to hesitate before she asks, “Want to spend it with me? I can make us a turkey that will probably feed us for a week.”
“You’re not going to your brother’s?”
She shakes her head, and with a nervous expression, she replies, “I’d rather spend the day with you.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “And with Lick, of course.”
I know the attraction is mutual, and it makes it all the more difficult to keep my distance.
You can’t get romantically involved with her.
Yeah, like only being her friend will hurt less.
When I don’t reply quickly enough, she mumbles, “Or not. Don’t feel pressured to say yes.”
The words rush way too fast from me. “I want to celebrate Thanksgiving with you.”
Relief eases the tension on her face. “Oh, good. Then it’s settled.”
Things still feel a little tense between us as we go to the living room, and I wait for Kelcie to pick a couch before I sit down beside her.
You’re looking for trouble.
“What movies do you like?” I ask.
“Let’s watch your favorite,” she responds. “Then afterward, I can torture you with mine.”
“Which is?”
“Click,” she answers, and when I shake my head, she adds, “With Adam Sandler.”
“I don’t think I’ve watched it.” While I grab the remote and switch on the TV, I say, “We’ll watch yours first.”
“Hold on. Which one is your favorite?” she asks.
As I search for Kelcie’s movie, I reply, “Arrival.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s kinda sci-fi, but it’s very deep. The first time I watched it, the main plot went right over my head.”
Lick jumps onto the couch, trying to squeeze into the small space between Kelcie and the armrest. She scoots closer to me until our sides touch, then Lick flops down and uses her lap for a pillow.
Lifting my arm, I rest it on the back of the couch behind Kelcie. While she pets Lick, I find the movie and press play.
This feels too much like we could be a family. Me, Kelcie, and Lick.
As if my dog is trying to torture me, she turns onto her back, and Kelcie has to duck her head against me to avoid taking a paw to the face.
“Shove her off. She can go lie on the other couch.”
“No.” Kelcie glances up at me, and then she pouts. “She’s just getting comfy.”
Holy fuck. Kelcie pouting is too fucking cute for me to handle.
“Fine, but lean against me.” Not giving her much of a choice in the matter, I lower my arm to her shoulders and pull her closer.
I have to force myself to focus on the movie, and just as I get into it, Kelcie crosses her legs and turns into me. She lays her head against my chest, and I can’t resist trailing my fingers up and down her arm.
I lower my head and almost press a kiss to her hair but stop myself in time.
Watch the damn movie, asshole.
Somehow, I manage to get into it again, and when I realize it’s not a comedy but actually fucking sad and deep, I begin to realize why it’s Kelcie’s favorite. It’s about not taking anything for granted.
“I wish I had a remote like that, but instead of skipping forward, I want to go back in time,” Kelcie murmurs.
I don’t stop myself like I did before and press a kiss to her hair. I take a deep breath of her flowery scent, wishing I could make her mine.
When the credits start rolling, I say, “It was good.”
Carefully, Kelcie tries to lift Lick’s head off her lap, but my dog wakes up, and when Kelcie climbs to her feet, Lick also jumps off the couch.
“I’ll make some coffee and tea while you let her out,” Kelcie offers.
We head to the kitchen, and when I open the back door, a freezing wind blows through the room.
“Holy crap,” Kelcie gasps, quickly pulling up the zipper of my jacket she’s wearing. “Where did you live before moving to Verona? Did you have snowy winters?”
“I have a house in Grand Rapids in Michigan.” When a confused expression blossoms on her face, I explain, “I needed a change of scenery. But to answer your question, I’m used to snowy winters.”
“What made you pick Verona?” she asks as she turns her attention to preparing our beverages.
Shit.
I don’t want to lie to her, but I can’t tell her the truth.
“I heard about the inn where Easton stayed,” I tell her a believable lie. “I thought I’d check it out. Something about the town called to me, and I decided to stay.”