Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Quietly as I can, I get up off the mattress and pull my pajamas out of my bag, donning them without putting any underwear on and climbing back into bed.
My skin will be dry in the morning, but there’s not even a snail’s chance in a monsoon that I’m going back out there to the bathroom where my moisturizer is located before the sun rises in the east.
Take me out of the oven and stamp some grill lines on my ass, because if I were a restaurant steak, I’d be D-O-N-E done with this day.
Thursday, May 18th
Chase
Interstates have turned into back roads as I wind the motor home through the Ohio countryside toward Brooke’s old stomping grounds—Hometown, Ohio. It’s still early enough that the sunlight’s angle is soft, and Brooke still sleeps soundly in the bedroom.
My thoughts, on the other hand, woke me early. Brooke was already in bed when I got off the phone with Caroline last night, and as much as I would have liked to have seen her, I think it was for the best. Talks with a drunken Caroline don’t usually put me in the greatest of moods, and last night wasn’t out of the ordinary. Because for as much as I’m happy with where I am in my career and life in general, I’m not at all where I thought I’d be in love.
I was never the perpetual bachelor type. I didn’t long for a flavor of the week, and I didn’t need the freedom to explore. Settling down, finding a woman to take care of, and eventually starting a family were all the things on my bucket list.
But spending eight years of your life with someone, only to find out the whole thing’s been a waste kind of blows that old bucket to smithereens.
Still, calls like last night’s bring the fact that I dodged a bullet into stark relief, so there’s at least one sliver of silver lining.
Eager to distract myself this morning, I checked and answered a few work emails from both Frank and Regina before rereading several chapters in Accidental Attachment with the intention of making notes. But Clive and River stirred a whole other set of emotions I’m woefully unprepared to talk about.
As a result, I’ve been keeping to myself. Other than a few more texts from Mo asking about Brooke’s breakfast, Brooke’s toothpaste, and Brooke’s coffee that I haven’t dignified with responses, it’s been quiet.
The bedroom door creaks, and Brooke curses under her breath as she stumbles out into the living room on untested sea legs. Much like being on a boat, the motor home sways and rocks on the road, leaving anyone trying to walk feeling like they’re learning to do it for the first time.
“You okay?” I ask as I hear her bump into something, followed by a sharp bark from Benji. I turn down the Tom Petty song on the radio in an effort to hear her better.
“Shit,” she mutters before raising her voice in my direction to answer me directly. “Yeah, yep. I’m good. Feels a little like I went under Derek Shepherd’s knife for a traumatic brain injury and am relearning how to bee-boop as a human, but I’m good.”
I chuckle as she collapses into the passenger seat like a rag doll. I can only look over for a second, but what I see when I do shorts out the normal circuits of my brain. I grab the wheel with both hands as the bus swerves with the skip of my heartbeat.
Nipples—Brooke’s nipples—are right there, for all—me—to see.
Sure, there’s a thin layer of white tank top over them, but I swear to New York Fashion Week, it’s the frailest fabric ever created. They’re pert and, what I can best assess with that quick of a glance at a view under fabric, are a mauvy-rose color. I know that’s specific, and no, I don’t know how I’m able to come to this conclusion. Regardless, I’m powerless to stop my continued perusal.
The tank top rides up to her navel, and on the bottom, a simple set of men’s boxer briefs bunch over her slender, warm-olive-toned thighs. It’s a bit of a mindfuck, but I swear they’re the exact brand and style I wear.
Rationally, I know she didn’t steal my underwear, but…my dick really, really thinks she did.
Immediately, I’m thrown into a scene in Accidental Attachment, one of the ones I read this morning, where River sleeps over at Clive’s apartment for the first time, completely unplanned. River dons an outfit, just like this one, only the underwear and the undershirt tank top are both Clive’s. The chapter before is one of the sexiest, most erotic things I’ve ever read, bar none, and seeing Brooke like this after reading that this morning is messing with my central-penis nervous system.