Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
He presses his lips to mine one last time before he pulls back, and my lashes flutter open. When our eyes lock, I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I do know the look on his face causes warmth to wrap around my insides.
“So you caught five fish?” he asks with a smile, and I laugh, dropping my forehead to his chest.
“Yes.”
“I wish I could have seen that.” He slides his fingers into my hair at the side of my head.
“It was awesome.” I tip my head back his way.
“Did Dad make you bait your own hook?”
“No, Ian did that for me, and he took the fish off too.”
“Dad must really like you if he didn’t make you do the dirty work.” He smiles while his eyes stay locked on my hair that his fingers are still tangled in.
“I think when I started jumping around the boat when the first fish was brought onboard, he realized I wasn’t cut out for that task,” I admit, and his head drops back to his shoulders as he laughs.
“I really wish I could have seen that.”
“You don’t,” I assure him, and he grins at me.
“Mom was impressed you offered to go out with Dad.”
“Your dad is….” I look past his shoulder when I realize where his fondness for his dad is coming from. Having grown up without my father since I was four, I didn’t miss him, but I missed the idea of him and how things could have been. In the photos I have of him, he seemed happy and devoted, and Mom has told me since I can remember that he loved being my dad. I’ve just always wished I had even a few memories with him. And more than once in my life, it would have been nice to have him to lean on. “You’re lucky you have him.”
“Penny,” he says quietly, and I shake my head, because my eyes are burning along with the back of my throat. “Come here.” He wraps his arms around me, and I let him hold me against his chest.
It takes me a couple of minutes to get control over my emotions, and once I know I’m all right, I lean back and look up at him. “Is it time for chili yet?”
“Are we not going to acknowledge what just happened?” His eyes roam over my face.
“Basically.”
“All right.” He sighs. “I’ll let you off the hook this time.” He kisses my forehead, then wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go get you some food.”
We step out of the boathouse and walk down the dock, and as we reach the shore, I can see that the cook-off has begun. People are walking around with bowls in hand and the note cards Janelle printed out. And along a table that is probably twenty feet long are crockpots that are plugged into a multitude of extension cords, and in between each are bags of chips and different toppings.
After we each grab a score card, we dig in. Sadly, our group comes in second place when all is said and done. But that loss doesn’t seem to matter to anyone later that evening when I lead our group to a victory at the trivia game, and we walk away with a trophy that I accredit to all my hours of watching history shows.
Chapter 23
Car Warranty
With the early-morning sun just beginning to fill our room, I hear my phone ring quietly from where it’s plugged in on Jace’s side of the bed and lift my head off his bicep. Not wanting it to wake him when I find he’s still asleep, I push up to my hands and knees and carefully maneuver myself half over his body and reach for it. I don’t recognize the number when I check the screen, but I definitely recognize the feel of Jace’s hands when they curl around my hips.
My eyes fly to his, and my heart starts to pound when I see the look on his face. It only pounds harder when he adjusts me so that I’m straddling his waist right over his hard-on.
“Answer your call.” His hands move up the tops of my thighs, and it takes all my concentration not to drop my phone.
“Hello,” I answer, sounding breathless to my own ears, and he smirks.
“Your car warranty is about to expire,” an automated voice informs me, and I quickly hang up the call.
“You don’t want a new car warranty?” he asks, moving his hands up to palm my breasts under the oversized shirt I slept in last night.
“The one I have is still good.” My hips rock forward over his cock when his fingers tug at my nipples.
“Warranties are very important to have,” he tells me, and I nod my agreement, because talking is not an option—not when his large palm has made its way down my stomach and his thumb has slid under the edge of my lace panties, zeroing in on my clit. I bite my lip to keep from moaning when he starts to circle that overly sensitive bundle of nerves, and I revel in the feel of his muscular chest under my hands.