Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“I’m not letting you near my dishes until you can walk in a straight line. You’d probably drop all of them.”
“Probably,” she said, her head dropping back against my chest as she curled into me. I felt a pang in my chest as I held her, and when I laid her in her bed, she gripped my shirt tightly in her hand for a minute. I was tempted to lie down with her, but this was already getting dangerously intimate, so I softly unclenched her fingers from my shirt and headed back to the kitchen, where I started putting everything away from the night before.
As I thought about the career she’d been forced to surrender, I started feeling my fury rise again. I hated the man who’d forced her to give that up, more than I’d ever hated anyone.
The truth was that even though I’d spent years on my own, and contentedly so, she’d caused a major disruption to my equilibrium. And what was even more disturbing was that I wasn’t all that upset about it.
When I’d first offered her the cabin as a place to stay until she felt safe again, I’d anticipated that I would feel crowded out of my home. That even though it was just the addition of one more person and she needed the place to stay, I’d just sensed that I would feel smothered in the house with her there, and I’d figured I’d be counting down the days until she left.
Instead, I was feeling more and more like catching her piece-of-shit ex would be a mixed blessing. When we found him, she wouldn’t want to stick around anymore. She hadn’t made it a secret that she thought I was a control freak and that she didn’t have any time for my bullshit.
Well, it would be better that way in the long run. If she did want to stay, and I accepted that, then she would inevitably become a vulnerability. And wasn’t that why I’d done all of this? Why I’d come out here from Nashville and left everything I’d worked for behind?
Everyone had called me crazy when I’d said that I was going to live in my uncle’s old cabin in the Smokies instead of trying to stay on the force and put my name in for captain, but I just hadn’t been able to face it. Not after everything that had happened with Neil.
No, this couldn’t last. She deserved better than this—than me.
She deserved to be able to go back to her home, where she’d left behind her life and the job that she’d loved, and her mom.
She didn’t need the former cop with too many demons to count.
I finished the last of the cleanup just as the sun finished cresting over the trees and put the coffee on as I thought of our next steps. It was clear that she hated being kept in the cabin, and I couldn’t blame her. Anyone would get antsy if they were consistently told they couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. And a woman as smart and active as Macy? Keeping her locked up was just asking for trouble.
Even though we’d reached our compromise the day before, I couldn’t be sure that she would stay in the cabin, no matter how many times I told her that she needed to. She’d already left it twice, and I knew that she was probably trying to figure out a way around that restriction in her sleep.
I poured the coffee as I thought over the night before and the new level of intimacy we seemed to have reached. I hadn’t had anyone make me dinner in years, and not only had she made me dinner, but it had been really fucking good. I really liked pasta Bolognese, and she’d made it perfectly. The fact that she’d done it had taken me by surprise, as for some reason I’d assumed that she didn’t cook. Maybe it was the fact that she had such an intense career, in such a busy city, that I’d figured that she just didn’t bother with it. The fact that she was so good at it, and that she’d bothered to do it for me, had been such a nice surprise.
I took the coffee over to the couch and sat down, leaning my head back on the sofa and letting the emotions wash over me. I honestly didn’t know what bothered me more: the idea that I was actually getting close to someone or the fact that I liked it.
“You should’ve left the dishes for me to do.”
I cracked an eye open and saw Macy standing above me with her arms crossed over her chest.
“How is that fair?” I asked. “You made dinner. It’s my fault I didn’t do it last night.”
She went over to the kitchen and grabbed a mug, pouring herself a cup. I couldn’t help watching her hips as she stood up on her toes to grab the mug and the surety with which she seemed to move around my house. And even though I valued my space, and maintaining it, I had to admit that I loved seeing how at home she felt in my house.