Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Then we would watch a movie and pass out, wake up hungry for each other, do our morning walk, then decide which adventure we were going to partake in that day. Often, it was the search for some really good, obscure restaurants neither of us had tried before. But one day I dropped her at the salon while I grabbed her some books about business and real estate development.
But this was a new one.
“You want to go to Tessa’s office supply store?” I asked, not sure I heard her right.
“Yeah. I need notebooks and pens and planners and maybe a whole new computer set-up. I don’t want anything I am currently doing, work-wise, to cross over with these new potential plans.”
I’d caught her poring over the books I got her while cross-referencing things on her laptop when I’d come home from grabbing some take-out the night before.
It seemed she really was going to try to figure out how to pull it off. A whole real estate development empire. With a side of money laundering to get it started.
“I love me some pens,” I said, walking over to slip into my shoes. “Let’s go on a stationary adventure.”
The thing was… it was that. An adventure. Everything with Lula felt that way. Like something new and exciting.
It was like someone flipped off a switch for all the other things I used to find fun: drinking, partying, random hookups.
Now, I’d much rather go debate highlighter and sticky note colors with Lula.
And that was the thing I’d always envied about my club brothers when they finally found the right woman—how even the most mundane things became exciting. How everything else seemed to get just a little bit duller.
I’d wanted that.
But I’d always known that I could only have it with the one woman who had resisted me every step of the way. So I clung desperately to the other shit, looking for even a small hint of what I knew I would find with her.
Now that I had her, I wasn’t wasting any chances to soak up all that joy.
“This got a little out of hand,” Lula said as she looked at the mound of products sitting on the desk to get checked out.
“Big plans require lots of supplies.”
“I don’t even have anywhere to put it.”
“Well, I have a solution for that.”
“Buy a desk…”
“Casually mention to Coach that you need one.”
She shot me a sweet smile.
“I really like your friends.”
“They’re your friends now too,” I told her, watching as her lips parted and her brows lowered. Because the concept of friends had simply never really occurred to her. She’d had coworkers, neighbors, family, and acquaintances, but never friends.
Until now.
I was happy to share mine with her.
“I guess they are,” she agreed. “I have you to thank for that, huh?”
“Nope. You have me to thank for great food suggestions, epic movie recommendations, and toe-curling orgasms,” I told her, pulling her against me. “Your friendships are all your own.”
She leaned back into me, her voice low.
“The clubhouse is full of kids,” she said, her mind on the same thing mine was. We could barely brush without being desperate to get naked.
“I got a motel room paid up for eleven more weeks,” I reminded her.
Her smile was devilish as we took our bags and made our way to the door.
Then we drove our asses to the motel like every other couple having daytime affairs. And we became the fellow guests she’d hated while living there, with our headboard knocking, dirty-talking, begging, and screaming sex.
Lula - 4 months
“Which room is this again?” Raff asked as we stood in the weather-tight frame of the first home build.
Not my home. Our home.
We’d batted around that idea for a while before ultimately deciding we were happy temporarily with living at the clubhouse while I got my new business venture up and running. Besides, we’d taken a road trip across the South once each month since moving in, which was almost half the month on the road, so it wasn’t like we were even there long enough to get tired of it.
I had everything I needed there: a private room, a huge closet, a clean bathroom, a working kitchen, and a gorgeous new handmade desk. And, of course, Raff.
The house could wait.
Now that I’d spent so much time planning, I really wanted to see the first house go up and go for sale. I wanted to be sure my expectations were realistic for the market. And that I would enjoy the process.
So far, so good.
“This is a flex room,” I told him.
“And a flex room is…”
“Whatever you need it to be. When I was doing research on what people really wished houses had more of, the list was mostly simple: more outlets, more—and bigger—closets, a pantry, and built-in storage. But almost everyone said something like: a guest room, a home office, a craft room, a home gym. No one agreed on what kind of room they needed, but everyone needed an extra room for… something. So we worked a flex room into the plans. It has a closet, so it can be a bedroom. It has enough wall space to put in storage for crafts or office supplies. It’s big enough for some home gym equipment. It can be whatever the buyer dreams up.”