Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
It takes me a few seconds to know how to respond. Was it an invitation? Only one way to find out.
Me:
Be right over.
Cat:
You’re a wanted man. No hot dates to keep you entertained?
Me:
I’m entertained. Let’s go back to that stroking.
Cat:
LOL. How about we talk about you? How was the show?
She can’t do anything from the West Coast, so no need to worry a nurse over a little concussion.
Me:
It was good. The crowd was wild. I don’t want to talk about me when you’re much more interesting. How was your day?
Cat:
Wild here, too. The retirees at River Elms are protesting this week. They had pudding removed from the dessert table due to budget concerns. It’s now only available if someone is sick or needs softer food. Ginger snaps were broken in the kerfuffle.
Chuckling, I read her text several times, enjoying more each time. She’s so fucking cute.
Me:
Sounds dangerous. Stay safe out there.
I imagine her laughing, those pretty eyes of hers shining just for me while she texts.
Cat:
I’m prepared for Monday. I bought boxes of pudding to make. I’ll come bearing gifts to calm the residents. Nothing like getting high blood pressure readings because they didn’t get their pudding.
I’m about to type, but another message pops up:
It was good to hear from you, Shane. I’m exhausted from the day and heading to bed. Have a good night.
I get the hint, but I’m not sure how I feel about it. Maybe she’s just tired like I am. I’m not going to lie here second-guessing what her intentions are and take it at face value. I type:
You, too.
I’m close to calling her just to hear her say good night, but I set the phone down beside me instead. The door opens, and Laird looks in my general direction in the dark. “You alive, Shane?”
“Fuck off.”
“Sounds like you’re back to normal.” He closes the door.
I’m left with scrambled thoughts of Cat. Why do I feel so good when she’s around, even via text? This isn’t normal. We just reconnected, barely know each other, and only came back together with the common goal of getting divorced.
But there’s more to it, and Laird’s words come to mind. “It was just different with her.”
I bolt upright in bed, aggravating the knot on my head. Covering the pulse raging in my head, I try to quell the pain despite the epiphany that’s now rocking my world.
Shit.
Do I have feelings for my wife?
12
Shane
I check my watch like I haven’t been checking it every couple of minutes already.
Why am I nervous?
I don’t take Cat as the type who rushes out the door at five but more the kind of person who gives everyone the time they need with her. Leaning against the back of my car, I’m willing to wait however long it takes.
Thirty-seven minutes.
The doors slide open, and she walks out in her white coat, black pants, and a white shirt. I shouldn’t have thoughts of her in that coat while fucking her, but the mind works in pretty obvious ways when I find someone attractive, and fuck me, I haven’t stopped thinking about her.
“Need a ride?”
She glances over, a smile blooming across the delicate features of her face as soon as she sees me. The way she practically floats on air as she hurries over has me feeling like I’m king of the world. And she’s not even my girl.
Though that’s also crossed my mind a few times lately.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, just shy of jumping into my arms. I would have caught her. “When did you get back?”
I want to reach out. The temptation to help her cover the distance she left between us is strong. I don’t, but I wonder if I’ll kick myself for not doing it later. Cognizant of the bruising and welt on my head, I keep the right side tilted away from her and thumb behind me as if it relates to the story in any shape or form. “Two hours or so ago.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, and her pretty eyes widen. Tucking hair that’s fallen loose from the ponytail she’s wearing, she then tilts her head. “And you came straight here?” Her eyes shift to the car, then her head wobbles. “I mean,” she says, shrugging, “after you went home.”
“Yeah. I went home first, though I’m regretting that now.”
“Why is that?”
“Because of how happy you were when you thought I hadn’t. I wouldn’t have, but I needed my car to get here.”
The apples of her cheeks pink, and the corners of her eyes soften just looking at me. “You don’t owe me anything, Shane. You’ve done more than your share already.”
“My share of what?”
“Favors. I owe you more than one.”
“No, you don’t. We’re in this together, remember?”
“Yeah.” She shifts, dipping her gaze between us. Shoving my hands in my front pockets, I take her in subtly. Or I thought I had until she laughs, looking away from me.