Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“You must have unlimited hot water,” I said, nudging Way under the spray more fully so he could rinse off.
“Yeah. Tankless heater. One of my splurges. Hate to admit it, but I’m not an environmentalist when it comes to a long, hot shower on a cold winter night. Sometimes it’s the only way I can warm up.”
We slid into silence as each of us finished washing. When we finally turned off the water, I felt like a giant prune, but I had zero regrets.
Way handed me a towel and reached for another for himself. We dried ourselves before Way wandered out of the bathroom, presumably in search of clean clothes. I threw on the joggers and tee I’d brought inside. When I stepped out into the main room, my eyes went straight to the shirtless cowboy wearing nothing but an old pair of cotton pajama bottoms low on his hips.
He was still rubbing water out of his hair with a towel in one hand while grabbing a pizza out of the fridge with another. My hands itched to touch him again—which was crazy because even the briefest thought of Justin was usually enough to stamp out any flicker of desire I might feel—but I resisted. Way and I acting like we were in a relationship in front of the town was one thing; acting like it when there was no one to fool but ourselves was another.
We didn’t need things to get more complicated than they already were.
“Need help?” I offered, hoping like hell I didn’t sound as awkward as I suddenly felt.
“Nah. But you can grab the beer or whatever you want to drink.”
I moved beside him as he reached over to turn on the oven. Soft guitar music played from a speaker on the kitchen windowsill, and it took me a minute to recognize it. “Old country classics?” I teased.
Way reached over to turn up the volume. “Can’t go wrong with Randy Travis. That voice will hit you in the gut.”
I looked closer at the speaker. “Is that a radio?”
His relaxed laughter relaxed me, too. Way had been stressed all day, and it was a relief to see him happy.
“You know I don’t get the internet out here, so my options are limited.”
I pulled two cans of beer out of the fridge and popped one open before handing it to him. “You could download stuff in town and then play it from your phone.”
He took a deep swallow of beer and grinned at me. “I could. But then I would have missed seeing your reaction. Besides, we listened to this station growing up, and it’s a habit at this point.”
I leaned against the counter and sipped my beer while he unwrapped the pizza. “Do you listen to any other kind of music besides country?”
He flicked his eyes at me. “We starting the get-to-know-you game already?”
I shrugged. “That was the deal, wasn’t it?”
“I have a playlist of dirty hip-hop,” he admitted, like it was the most shameful secret ever.
I gasped. “You listen to bad words, Mayor Fletcher?”
“My sisters would kill me. They think it’s demeaning to women. But I like the beat.” His cheeks were pink, maybe from embarrassment or maybe from the hot shower. Either way, he was fucking beautiful, and it was killing me not to kiss his crooked grin.
“I mostly listen to business podcasts,” I admitted. “But I have season tickets to the New York Philharmonic. Don’t tell anyone.”
Way’s grin faded. “There’s a lot to unpack.”
“We both have secrets?”
“Your secrets are smarty-pant secrets. Symphony orchestra secrets. Self-improvement shit. Now I feel like a dumbass.”
I stepped into his personal space until our chests pressed together. “My sister was first-chair oboe in college. I got hooked after going to all of her concerts.”
“Does she still play?” His eyes were on my lips.
I combed my fingers into his damp hair to tame it. “No. Camille went to med school and lost all her free time. Now, she’s a busy ER doc and definitely doesn’t have the time or energy for it.”
Way’s hands moved to my hips. “So both of you got the brains in the family.”
I shook my head. “They went to her. I got the tenacity.”
He pulled me closer. His eyes flicked up to mine. “I’ve never listened to a podcast,” he whispered. Another secret.
“Shameful,” I said, leaning in to brush my lips across his stubbled jaw. “Probably ’cause you’re so lazy.”
Thankfully, he laughed. His hands moved up under my T-shirt. “That’s me. Always laying around eating junk food and watching daytime television.”
“If only you worked harder,” I murmured, nosing the skin below his ear. “Helped others.”
His breath hitched. “If only I was tenacious like you.”
“Mm.” Just as I moved back to kiss him full on the lips, the oven made a loud beeping combination, startling both of us apart.