Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
But I want Brynn’s life that she tragically left behind. I want to pick up the tiny pieces and put them together with parts of my life to create something new.
While my thoughts hijack my attention, I don’t register Ozzy and Lola walking toward my vehicle until I jump when he opens my door.
“Good morning,” he says with a beaming smile.
Heat fills my cheeks like he can read my mind and see my dreams. “Hi,” I whisper before swallowing hard and stepping out.
He leans toward me and stops, sliding his gaze to the side. Lola is waiting with wide eyes and an even wider smile. “Is this okay, Lola?” he says, asking for her permission to kiss me.
And it happens again.
It happens. Every. Single. Day.
I fall in love with Ozzy Laster.
Lola doesn’t speak, but she nods slowly, lacing her hands behind her back while rocking back and forth on her feet.
Ozzy leans in the rest of the way, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth in a kiss that feels intimate yet chaste at the same time.
Before my legs turn into limp spaghetti, I clear my throat and lean across the driver’s seat to grab the box of doughnuts. “Have you had breakfast?”
“We had smoothies,” Ozzy says.
“Good. Then I won’t feel as guilty for getting doughnuts.” I hand Lola the box, and she squeals.
“YES!”
Ozzy chuckles.
“The front door is open. Head inside while your dad helps me carry in the groceries,” I say.
Lola pivots, lifting the lid of the box while going to the front door.
“I can’t believe you took the day off,” I say.
He shrugs. “More like playing hooky. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Move in with me,” I say, completely changing the subject. Two seconds ago, I had no plans of saying those four words. My heart is louder than my common sense.
And from the shock on Ozzy’s face, I’d say he didn’t see it coming either.
“Not today,” I reply with a nervous laugh as my brain hits reverse. But it’s too late. I can’t unsay it, and I don’t want to. “After the renovations, of course. I want Lola to pick out whatever she wants for her room. And I want her to have Bandit with her every night. And I want that tree house in the backyard to be a place where she can stare at the sky and dream big like I did. And I don’t want to crawl through any more windows. And I want you—”
Ozzy kisses me, sliding one hand to the back of my neck while his other grips my hip. This isn’t a Lola-appropriate kiss.
This is how a man kisses a woman like she’s his oxygen—like I’m his oxygen.
“Is that a yes?” I ask when he releases me.
“It’s”—a hint of pain pulls at his brow—“a maybe. Some logistics need to be considered.”
I nod several times. “Yeah. I know. O-of course,” I stutter past a surge of panic. “I wasn’t thinking when I said it.” My words fall from my lips in a rush. “I pulled into the driveway and saw you and Lola laughing on my front porch steps. And my heart decided without running it past my mind first, and then you kissed me in front of her, and—”
Again, he kisses me. But this time, he holds my face with both hands, and it’s a quick kiss—a kiss meant solely to shut me up. “Baby,” he whispers over my lips, “I said there are things to consider. I didn’t say it’s impossible.”
“Okay.” I try to contain my grin, but it only lasts two seconds.
“Groceries?”
I nod.
Ozzy carries all four sacks of groceries, and I let him because I like having a part of my life where I’m not proving to the rest of the world that I can do anything a man does.
I can fight fires and fly planes.
I can be calm and keep a steady hand when it matters most.
I can be strong and brave.
But with Ozzy, I want to be the woman whose groceries he carries, whose wood floor he refinishes, whose bare ass he bites, and who he calls “baby.”
“Can Bandit have a piece of my doughnut?” Lola asks, perched on the counter next to the cat.
Ozzy and I reply, “No” at the same time while unloading groceries.
“Why don’t you have a kitchen table and chairs?” she asks.
“Because I’m going to remodel the kitchen and do a lot of things that are messy, so I’m waiting until that’s done before getting any more furniture,” I say, lining up cups of yogurt on the top shelf of my fridge while Ozzy picks out a doughnut.
“You should ask my dad to help you because he’s really good at building and fixing things.”
“What about you?” I ask, sipping the coffee I got at the doughnut shop. “Aren’t you going to help me?”
“I can hold the tape measure like I did for my dad at our house. And I can watch Bandit.”