Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“No? Why not?”
“Because I nearly killed someone at the grocery store, and it was all your fault.” I climb out and tuck the crutches under my arms.
Eric wraps his arms around me and kisses me hard. I lose my balance, so he hugs me tighter and kisses me harder while my crutches fall.
I turn my head for a breath of air. “You never play fairly.”
“Play fairly?” He ensures I’m stable on one leg before he bends down to retrieve my crutches. “I’m not playing anything. I just wanted to kiss you because you’re irresistible when you pretend to be mad at me.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Baby …” he draws out the word, angering me that I find it sexy. But I do. “You kissed me back with a good amount of tongue and a soft moan. If that’s your idea of being mad, I might work harder to keep you mad.”
“I see you’re still arrogant.”
He chuckles, opening the back hatch to get the bags of groceries. “And you’re still mistaking my confidence for arrogance.” He closes the door and twists his lips. “It’s not even confidence. More like bold hope.”
I follow him to the door. “Bold hope?”
“Yes. I always hope you want me to kiss you, and I’ve managed to be bold enough with my efforts that it’s easily mistaken for confidence or, your word, arrogance.” He holds open the door while I hobble into the house. “But there’s always a little doubt in my mind because I know you’re not a sure thing.”
Eric takes the bags to the kitchen. “But I’m pretty damn elated when I get to be with you and when you kiss me back. Best feeling in the world.”
Never ever, ever has he played fairly. Eric knows my biggest weakness, and he plays on my weakness. He makes me question my feelings, my decisions, and my entire life.
“I’m going to look for a flight back to Kansas City. Hopefully, something early in the morning. And tonight, I can clean the house so it’s in tip-top shape when Shaun gets home tomorrow. After I put away the groceries, I’ll mow the lawn if there’s gas for his mower. He shouldn’t have to mess with any of that if he’s only coming home for a short time.”
“It’s an electric mower. And you don’t have to mow the lawn.”
“I know, but I want to,” Eric says, glancing over his shoulder while he unpacks the groceries.
He’s a good man, and that truth messes with my thoughts as common sense and raw emotion clash in a battle of wills.
Eric does everything he promised while I sit helplessly in my chair and try to focus on my next work project, but it’s hard because he’s leaving. And I don’t know what comes next, what everything means, or if it means anything. We’re “moments.” But when will we have more moments? In three weeks? Three months? Three more years? I feel utterly inept with words.
Fucking up words is supposed to be Eric’s thing. Not mine.
“Your dad’s here,” I say when I see him on the front door camera the following morning.
Eric’s been hellbent on making sure the kitchen is spotless from breakfast. “Tell Shaun I’m thinking of him, and I hope his mom continues to get better,” he says, lifting his bag onto his shoulder.
“I will.” I stand by the front door with my heart in my throat.
“I’ll call you,” he says, framing my face.
Finding my bravest smile, I hold my breath. It feels like the slightest misstep could send my emotions into a tailspin.
“My dad was serious about you coming to Kansas for a visit and dinner.”
I nod several times.
“You’re going to be out of that boot and running laps in no time.”
“Hope so,” I manage to say with some control.
“When will you know about Spain?”
Spain. Why did I tell him about that?
“I have no idea. Could be in a few weeks or a few months. Since my accident, my boss has been pretty vague about it. I fear she’s working up the nerve to tell me I didn’t get the promotion. She just doesn’t want to tell me until I’m literally back on my feet.”
He kisses me, and I feel the emotions all the way to my toes. I’ve done it again. I’ve let him consume me. “Or …” He brushes his nose against mine. “Your boss is waiting until you’re fully recovered so she can give Spain a start date. Stay positive. Okay?”
Positive?
I’m in love with him, and he’s calling the possibility of an ocean separating us “positive?” I can barely handle the 554.6 (yes, I googled it) miles between us. An ocean? I can’t imagine.
“Positive. Got it.”
Again, he kisses me. This time tears burn my eyes, threatening to expose all of my emotions. I moan into the kiss, encouraging him to keep kissing me, buying myself a little time to shore up the dam.