Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I would never attract guys like Thatcher. I wasn’t in a league that they even acknowledged. But with Tyron, I felt confident. This was where I belonged, on this playing field. With those like me. Not those meant for fantasies.
“When are you leaving next week?” Esther asked me over dinner.
I washed my food down with a drink of water before responding, “I go to Tennessee on Tuesday, then fly from there to Kentucky on Wednesday.”
She reached for a piece of bread. “So, you will be home on Thursday?”
“Yes.”
Her mouth formed into a big smile as she shifted her eyes to Tyron. “Listen to that. She will be in town next weekend.”
“Subtle much, babe?” Jaiden said beside her.
Esther shrugged, still grinning at Tyron.
I glanced at him, about to reassure him that he did not need to feel pressured by her, that this was just how she was. But when his eyes met mine, he didn’t look like someone who was upset, but more … hopeful.
“My buddy is the event manager at the arena, and I have four tickets to the Zach Bryan concert if I want them,” he told me.
Esther adored Zach Bryan. I flicked my gaze to my pushy best friend, then back to Tyron. “Do you want them?” I asked since this was not about Esther and her wants.
He chuckled. “If you do.”
“She does!” Esther squealed across from me.
I didn’t respond right away. I did like him. He was nice, easy to be around. He seemed into me. I could give it a chance. Butterflies and tingly feelings didn’t have to come instantly. They could take time. I deserved to see if this led there.
“I’d like to go,” I said, then smiled brightly. “But can you give the other tickets to someone other than them? She’s a bit much.”
A wadded-up napkin hit me in the side of the head as Esther hissed at me.
Tyron nodded, leaning back in his seat and putting his arm behind my shoulders. “Yeah, I could look up some of my other friends. I’ll look for the less aggressive sort.” He played along.
It wasn’t butterflies, but it was something. Even if the something was just friendship. I enjoyed being around him.
My eyes snapped open, and the darkness in my bedroom told me it was still nighttime. I felt an unsettled feeling, and I lay there, not moving, afraid to. Something had woken me. I didn’t know what, but with the way I’d jolted awake so suddenly, I knew I hadn’t woken up organically. My heart started to beat faster as I strained to listen for anything. I’d locked both doors and double-checked them. If someone had gotten inside, considering the noises that would make, I’d have woken up while they were doing it.
Maybe a bad dream that I didn’t remember had woken me. I lifted my eyes to look at the light switch and considered turning it on and looking around. There wasn’t anyone here. I was being ridiculous.
Needing to prove it to myself, I turned onto my back and studied the darkness surrounding me. Only shadows that I recognized. Nothing alive and breathing. A car could have driven by, or a dog could have barked. Why I always had to go to someone being in the house when I woke up like this in the middle of the night, I didn’t know. Sometimes, my imagination was a pain in the ass.
Pushing those thoughts from my head, I replayed the kiss that Tyron had given me at the door tonight. Although his breath had been minty and he had good technique, no slobbery stuff or out-of-control tongue action, it had been well done. I had enjoyed it.
Most kisses I’d had weren’t great and were often forgettable. At least this time, I had been impressed even if I had been critiquing it when it was happening. My toes hadn’t curl, and my nipples hadn’t hardened. None of that stuff you heard about. But was that even real? Did girls just make that up for a guy’s ego or to add romance to their story?
Reaching for my extra pillow, I groaned and covered my face. Why was it all so complicated? Perhaps I was the problem. I was too disengaged. I hadn’t been when Thatcher was asking me dirty things in my ear, but then it could have simply been the vodka in the lemon drops and not him at all. Any attractive guy could have said those things to me at the moment, and I’d have reacted the same way.
I could test that theory or just go with it and not rock the boat. It was easy enough to accept that the alcohol had made me horny. Wasn’t that a common thing? I had to stop thinking it was Thatcher freaking Shephard that held that magical power.