Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
I was so fucked. I couldn’t even concentrate on the conversation without feeling Callie’s thighs around my hips.
“Is he as good a pilot as Weston?” Callie asked as we settled in at the table.
“I think Weston is better, but we didn’t die or anything.” Sutton shrugged.
Callie looked across the table at me, Sutton between us.
“He’s better than I am,” I said honestly. “He’s got a few more years’ experience behind the controls.”
“Thank you for taking her,” Callie said, her eyes softening.
“No problem.” Whatever was behind my ribs went absolutely gooey. Shit. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to get Callie to look at me like that.
Sutton filled every gap in the conversation, giving the details of her day and our backcountry run.
I did my best to keep my attention on my plate, but then Callie would ask a question, and I’d remember the sound of her gasps. She tucked her hair behind her ears and my hands clenched at the memory of that silk sliding through my fingers.
This was so fucking bad.
It wasn’t just some generic itch I could scratch with a one-night stand with some tourist, either. I wanted Callie. It was that easy and just that tangled. She wasn’t a girlfriend, or even just a friend. She was my roommate, and if we went there, it would change everything.
If she even wanted to go there. I hadn’t exactly stuck around to chat about our feelings once we’d been interrupted. Thank God for the timing, or I’d have been inside her within minutes, stroking us both to orgasm, and the consequences would have been unfathomable.
We finished dinner and cleaned up together, Sutton heading off to finish her homework, which left me alone with Callie in the kitchen.
“Did you finish your edits for the night?” I asked, searching for any safe topic of conversation.
“That’s a direct violation of rule number thirteen.” She flashed me a smile.
“Rule number thirteen is stupid, and I made it before I knew you.” Before I cared about your day.
She closed the refrigerator, where she’d been putting away our leftovers, and turned around, leaning against it as I finished wiping down the counters. “I was done hours ago, actually.”
“Even on a Sunday?” My eyebrows shot up. We’d been busy today, and I’d never call Reed to check my estimate, but if I had to guess, I would have said we had more people today than last week at opening.
“I have an assistant now.” She cocked an eyebrow at me. “Which you might know if you’d spent more than five minutes with me in the last week.”
I tossed the cleaning wipe and anchored my ass against the counter opposite hers, keeping a good amount of distance between us.
“But you haven’t because you’ve been avoiding me.” She shoved her hands into the center pocket of her hoodie.
“Guilty.”
She scoffed. “Why? Because I kissed you?”
I gripped the counter on either side of me to keep me right where I was. “I think I did my share of the kissing.”
“I’m the one that climbed on top of you,” she said quietly.
“And I more than repaid the favor.” Even now, I could feel her soft skin under my hands, the curve of her breast in my palm.
Her lips parted and she nodded her head.
“This is dangerous,” I warned her.
“We can just forget it happened.”
Not likely. Not even fucking possible.
I locked both my hands behind my neck and sucked in a deep breath, turning around slowly in hopes of getting some control. There were three real estate flyers on the counter. “Did you go to showings today?” There, that was a safe topic of conversation.
“Yep. But they were either too far away from town or too much work.” She walked over as I pivoted to face her. “That one was pretty, though.” She pointed to the flyer on top.
I noted the address. “Too far outside Penny Ridge.”
“Sutton would have to change schools.” She sighed. “I swear, every time I think I have enough saved up, the market jumps higher. It’s like this moving goal post I can’t ever reach.”
“Have you thought about a fixer-upper?”
She snorted. “I might know the right way to hold a hammer, but that’s about it.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to offer to help, but I snapped my mouth shut, unsure if that would be overstepping. I’d worked construction in the summers before Mom died, helping with repairs around the lodge and even building a few houses on a crew the summer of my junior year before she got really sick. I had the know-how, just not the permission to extend my place in Callie’s life.
“What about you?” she asked, taking the flyers out of my hand and tossing them into the recycling bin. “You looking to buy eventually?”
“Not yet.” I ripped my hand over my hair.
She looked up at me, expecting an explanation.