Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
The kitchen is recently upgraded with cream cabinetry, white and cream marble counters, and beige and cream marbled flooring. There are pops of color with the flowers, with a few red countertop appliances, and gold and brass accented wall décor like a clock, weather station, and memo board meant for busy families. The kitchen island faces the family room.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, following her eyes which seem to be focused on the windows. “I see why you loved it so much.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“How about we tour the upstairs?” I ask, my voice dropping as I drop a soft kiss on her neck.
She shivers.
Fuck, I want this. I want to jump ahead to where she’s in this with me. She’s afraid I’ll get bored when the game is over? Not a chance. I’m so fucking ready to have her in love with me. To see her look at me with love, with lust, with something other than fear, frustration, and confusion. She’s worth the wait. The effort. I don’t believe for a minute that I’ll lose interest. I want this woman running for me when she sees me, dying to connect with me. I want it all with her.
I lift her up and move toward the staircase on the other side of the kitchen.
“You don’t have to carry me up there,” she mumbles.
“Yes I do, maybe I’ll never let your feet touch the ground again,” I warn with a grin. “Carry you from place to place?”
She rolls her eyes.
“Tie you to the bed when I can’t carry you around,” I add.
She chews her cheek and drops her gaze.
I laugh darkly.
The upstairs has four bedrooms and three bathrooms along with a home office that’s lined with bookshelves and yet another fireplace.
I see her eyes light up at the bookshelves, which are empty but for one book. The book I purchased for her.
She eyeballs the book and then looks at the floor again.
Okay, no comment on that then.
“What do you think of the color in here?” I ask once we’re in the master bathroom. I’ve set her on one of the two vanities. I look around, face likely betraying how I feel about the shade of green these walls are painted.
“It’s hideous,” she announces.
“Thank fuck. I was worried I’d have to live with this the rest of my life because you were in love with it.”
Her eyes work over my face actively. “You’d put up with it if I liked it when you hate it?”
“No,” I tell her honestly.
Her forehead crinkles with confusion.
I lean in and put both hands on her thighs and squeeze.
“Once you finish falling in love with me, you’ll paint it to save me from the ongoing headache.” I touch my lips to hers and back up.
“What if I did love it?”
“Then I’d have kept my mouth shut for the moment. Maybe drop some hints about a compromise. Paint your home office that color and only go in there with these shades on.” I gesture to the shades tucked into my shirt. “So, bunny, what’s the verdict? Do you love your house as much in person as you did in pictures?”
I’m saved from answering his question by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and puts it to his ear with a little smile.
“Well, hello,” he drawls, eyes bouncing to me. “She’s right here. Why?”
I watch him moisten his lips with his tongue and then he says, “Ah. Yes, we’ve been busy. Here she is.”
He passes me the phone.
Alannah Fisher.
“Hey,” I say, my voice coming out scratchy.
My bag is still in his car. She probably called me first.
“You did not send your proof of life text, missy.”
“Shit, sorry,” I say, feeling my face flame. “I’m alive.”
He walks out of the room.
“Should I assume you’re fine going forward so not to expect them?”
“You should expect them,” I say softly, noting the footsteps have stopped. He’s probably standing directly outside the door, listening.
“Then you’re not fine?” she asks.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I think. I… I don’t know. My morning was a little… crazy.”
She snorts. “Crazy morning with the crazy guy?”
“Pretty much.”
“Are you hurt? Hungry? Injured?”
“No, no, and no. Well… maybe hungry.”
“Didn’t you have that brunch thing with his family?”
“I did.”
“But?”
“But I didn’t eat.”
“Why?”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“He’s there so you can’t talk, right?”
“Ish. Except to say that right now we’re in the house in Dublin.”
“The house in Dublin?” she parrots.
“The house,” I emphasize.
The sound of footsteps in the hall resumes, then recedes. Maybe he’s gone into one of the other bedrooms.
“The house?” Alannah asks blankly.
“The house. The dream house I wanted but didn’t think I’d ever have.”
“Explain.”
“Remember that house I was obsessing about before Adam’s accident? Well, Derek bought it for me.”
“He what?”
“He saw it on my bookmarks and in my web history, so he bought it for me.”