Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Back the fuck off.
Man must have a death wish because all he did was grin and continue on his initial path. With Wendy on one side of Hope, Alistair took the other and Mitchell growled low in his throat as he approached. Without slowing, he dragged a chair for himself up to the group. Hope turned and gave him a soft smile over her shoulder, one that turned to a look of confusion as he spun the seat so he could straddle it. Directly behind her.
Correction, not directly, he was slightly toward Alistair so he could see over Hope’s shoulder and to the plate of food she balanced on her knee.
“What are you doing?” she asked him as he leaned forward, reached around her shoulder, and snagged a piece of apple from her plate.
“Socializing. I was told it was rude to hide up in the room.”
Sparks flickered in her eyes but she didn’t argue. “And plucking food off my plate?”
He reached his arm around her once more and lifted a piece of cheddar. “We’re sharing a bed every night. Something wrong with sharing a plate, Flykra?”
“What are you calling her?” David interrupted. “Her name is Hope.” He popped a sandwich in his mouth and chewed.
“Mind your manners, David,” his father said.
Mitchell didn’t care one way or the other if the boy asked questions. It’s what children did. Lord knows he’d asked enough growing up.
“I’d be interested in knowing myself,” Hope muttered, turning away from him.
“All you have to do is ask,” he murmured in her ear before dragging a finger along her neck and shoulder, celebrating her shiver.
Hope didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to Wendy and started talking about the games they were planning on playing this evening. Some were probably going to be repeats, as they had only planned on two nights for the mixer, but the weather had lengthened everyone’s stay.
Mitchell didn’t participate much in the conversation, but he was here, being social. It was a win. And he hadn’t growled at any of the males.
Much. The growl leaving him when he first approached didn’t count because no one had heard it escape.
After lunch, the storm ramped up once more and Mitchell checked his phone, even though he knew there would be no signal. The moment he realized he was right, he shoved it in his pocket and scanned the room for Hope. Spying her seated by a window, away from those gathered, her feet resting on the cushion and her arms wrapped around her shins, he walked toward her. He couldn’t stay away.
Hope had her hair drawn up in some half-up, half-down style but he could see some of her curls had been left free to cascade over her temples. His sweatshirt covered her and he smiled when he noticed his socks on her feet.
Thinking she was lost in thought, when she glanced over at him and gave him a small smile, he paused. “Everything okay?”
“Taking a minute.”
Without asking, he sank to the cushion by her feet and made sure her toes brushed against his thigh.
“Do you need anything? Drink? Medication? Nap?”
“Trying to get me into bed, Mr. Anderson?”
He stretched his arm along the top of the settee, simply to keep from reaching for her curls. Moving his fingers along the microfiber material, he grunted.
“And if I was?”
“I’d ask you if you needed some medication.”
“I don’t.”
“Pretty sure that’s what everyone who needs some says when they don’t want to admit anything.” A grin teased the corners of her mouth and his heart sped up.
“We have to talk about that kiss, Flykra.”
Everything about her shut down. Hope hadn’t moved but the wall she’d slammed up was unmistakable. All the warmth he’d come to crave in their short acquaintance vanished like a steel door had been closed.
“No need,” she said, waving a hand like it hadn’t been the slightest bit consequential.
Like fuck it hadn’t. And they sure as hell did need to talk about it.
Then repeat it.
And move forward from there.
“It was nothing more than a kiss. Alistair kissed me. We kissed. I kissed Alistair again.”
There went his jealousy. It was pumped full of gas and rose to the surface.
She blinked and tucked some curls behind her ear. “It’s a singles mixer. None of it meant anything.”
He shifted his leg, pushing into her toes more, unwilling to let that go. “Is that what you think, Flykra?”
She gulped and returned her gaze outside to the wall of white. “What language is that?”
Okay, he could do this. But she was sorely mistaken if she thought he was going to let their discussion of the kiss drop.
He dragged his tongue along his lower lip, swearing he could taste her unique flavor lingering there. Hope still wasn’t looking at him. Mitchell didn’t like that. Not at all.
That was deliberate because there was nothing but white outside. You couldn’t even see the surrounding trees. He knew the men had been up on the roof shoveling off the snow so it wouldn’t collapse, but if this continued, they would have to go up again tonight.