Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
“Perfect.” I loved how Tennessee had effortlessly included himself in my brownie plans. “Do you take Clifford into the yard?”
“Only on his harness.” Tennessee blushed and took another big bite of donut. “Someday, I want to build him a cat patio.”
“A catio? I love that idea.” A shiver raced up my back as I helped myself to a strawberry-sprinkle donut. I swore I could see an older ranch home with a deck out back with one of those cat enclosures and Tennessee in the kitchen with me. I wasn’t sure whether it was a glimpse of the future, though, or a particularly vivid memory. “Remember when we used to dream about remodeling the house next to my folks?”
The old owners had moved out the summer between our fifth- and sixth-grade years, a hot, sticky summer that had stretched on and on. We’d had numerous adventures on the vacant property until flippers bought the place. Spying on the remodel turned out to be way more interesting than climbing the back cherry trees.
“We were going to be roommates.” Tennessee’s nervous laugh was adorably close to a giggle.
“We were funny.” I laughed along with him. “Maybe our willingness to live and work together should have been a clue we weren’t straight?”
“Probably.” Tennessee blushed again and studied his remaining half-donut like it was a textbook. “How did your parents take it when you came out?”
“Ha.” I loved this memory, so I smiled broadly. “I didn’t so much as come out as announce I was taking a dude to prom and ask to borrow Dad’s Charger.”
“Balls.”
“Yep. Didn’t earn the car and got a really embarrassing safe-sex lecture, but that was that.” I shrugged and downed the last of my coffee. “Mom bugs me monthly about settling down with the right person, but that’s moms for you.”
“Yeah.” Tennessee’s voice went faint and distant. Oh right. Not everyone had a mom to nag them and love them and bake them casseroles and all that.
“Sorry.” I set aside my donut. “I forgot—”
“Don’t apologize.” He held up a hand. “I’m glad families like yours exist. And my foster mom, Barbara, is amazing. She and her husband fought to adopt me, and we talk on the phone all the time.”
“That’s awesome. Are they sad you moved back here to Mount Hope?”
“I don’t think so. Their family moved south of Portland a few years ago when my foster dad’s company relocated him. I’ll be able to visit often.” Tennessee’s voice was stronger now, more thoughtful. “And Barbara says the move is good for me. Something about coming full circle.”
“I like that.” I peered deeply into his pale-blue eyes. Why hadn’t I ever noticed how hypnotizing they were? And I did love the idea of us also coming full circle. We’d started here, and after Tennessee up and disappeared, we’d had unfinished business. Now, as adults, the nature of that business had shifted. We’d been TNT once before, and it felt gravely necessary to find out if we could be explosive together. If our potential was as great as I was coming to suspect.
The moment dragged on, and I stepped closer to Tennessee. Cautiously, I touched his shoulder, outlining the exposed seam with my left thumb.
“Get dressed in a hurry?” I asked in a husky whisper, liking the idea of him sleeping shirtless.
“Oh. Uh. Yeah,” Tennessee stammered. “I should put some real clothes on.”
“Need help?” I waggled my eyebrows, delighting in the choking sound that escaped Tennessee’s throat. “I meant because of your cast, but you’re fun to shock.”
“Glad to amuse you.” He beat a hasty retreat to the dining room entrance. “Be right back.”
I left him have his escape. I could have followed, and he likely wouldn’t have pushed me away had I made a pass, but even I had limits. I’d let Tennessee warm up to the idea of us as more than friends and happily enjoy his company and the delicious anticipation in the meantime. He emerged in jeans and a U of O law school T-shirt, and after a brief stint in the yard for Mouse, we started the brownie recipe.
“So, what’s the plan for CUPID?” I asked as I measured cocoa powder, careful to avoid sprinkling my cast and not even trying to hide my fishing expedition about his personal life. “Gonna get back on the app?”
“I am one hundred percent done with app dating. Never again.” Tennessee was super cute when he got all dramatic.
“Good to know.” I nodded sagely. “I had a similar revelation last year, much to my mom’s dismay. No more apps.”
“Better single than another bad match.” Tennessee walked right into the trap I was laying. Now, all I had to do was show him that we would be the furthest thing from a bad match.
“Word.” I grinned at him as I incorporated the cocoa into the sugar and butter mixture. “But that means you’re free on Wednesday night.”