Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Okay … what would I do normally?
I sigh. Here’s the problem. There is no normal. I haven’t had a girlfriend in … a while. I fool around here and there, have some fun, but worrying about them finding a shirt to hang in? Have I done that before?
This is Sara, and I want her to be comfortable. Happy. So …
“We’re going to have to order dinner out,” I say. “Unless you want to sneak into Jess's. He keeps extra heat-up pizzas in the freezer in the garage. I took the last pepperoni last weekend, so unless they’ve been to the store, we’re probably stuck with sausage and mushroom.”
She laughs. “We can’t keep eating out.”
“Why?”
“It’s expensive, and I’m broke. You know this. Hence, why I’m here.”
I smirk. “I thought you were here for oral, but okay.”
She just shakes her head, amused.
“Anyway, Shade House burgers again?” I ask.
She sighs. “You’re paying.”
“Of course.”
I drop my towel and slide on my shorts. Her gaze holds tight to mine as I get them situated on my hips. There’s something on her mind, something I’m probably not going to like. I can tell. I get that a lot.
“I really don’t want to complicate things, Banks.”
“Good. I’m not a complicated guy.”
She presses her lips together. “I don’t ask to stay with men.”
“Good. Because I don’t ask women to stay with me.”
A light slowly appears in her eyes. Sweet girl.
I start toward the kitchen, pausing only to kiss the top of her head as I go. “Want a drink?”
She sighs in defeat. Whew.
“I’m going to grab my phone so we can call in our order,” I say over my shoulder. “Be in my bed and in my shirt when I get back.”
“And what if I’m not?”
I don’t miss a step. “Then I’ll come find you and carry you back there. Why don’t you just keep it simple for both of us?”
She scoffs to save face. But the sound of her feet slapping quickly against the floor gets more faint, which means she’s headed to my room.
I blow out a breath and find my phone. Then I grab two waters and a bag of cookies I borrowed from Mom’s on Sunday, then head back.
I hope I’m projecting confidence and not the wobble in my gut. I’m not usually so assertive. Live and let live. But if I’m not super clear and give her too much wiggle room to get out of it, I know she’ll revert to what she knows. And that’s evading any possibility of depth in a relationship. Well … evading a relationship altogether.
Leaving.
If she really wanted to go, of course, I’d let her. I’d help her. But I don’t think that’s true.
I think she likes being wanted.
“Here you go,” I say, tossing the bag of cookies on the bed beside her. “Consider it an appetizer.”
I try not to stare or make a big deal out of how my heart thumps seeing her in the middle of my bed with the blankets just covering her chest. I just set the drinks on the bedside table and lie on top of the blankets next to her.
She offers me a cookie. “It’s weird lying in your bed.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I take the cookie. “Well, I’m your fake fiancé now. You should get comfortable here.”
Her smile is soft. I love it on her face.
“Do you really want to go with me?” she asks, nibbling on the edge of a chocolate chip.
“Yeah. Especially if you’re going in that dress.”
She giggles. “I need to either wear the other one or have that one cleaned first. I’m going to have it dry-cleaned either way.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. I guess. I mean, I might not answer, but you can ask.”
Fair enough. I settle in against the pillows. “Why did what’s-his-face saying that to you bother you that much?”
“What do you mean?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maddox said I shouldn’t get a dog the other day because I can barely keep myself alive.”
She laughs.
“Although true, he said that because he knew it wouldn’t hurt my feelings. And he knows that because he knows me.”
“Okay …”
I blow out a breath. “So what was it about ‘not being wife material’ that bothered you?”
“What does it matter?”
“Because I want to understand you and that seems like a good place to start.”
I hold my breath, positive that she’s going to either get up and leave or tell me to fuck off. But, much to my surprise, neither happens.
She takes small bites of her cookie and stares across the room.
“You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” I say. “I was just curious.”
“You know what’s curious to me?”
“What’s that?”
She turns her head my way. “That I’ve never really thought about it. It pissed me off on a gut level, but I’ve never thought about why.”
I’m curious and want to press, but I give her space to get her thoughts together. My typical tactic of hounding people until I get what I want won’t work here. And, strangely, I don’t want them to.