Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I had so much fun with him that afternoon. We talked about the baby and came up with different ideas of how to break the news to Lincoln. We went on about how excited we were to see Lincoln’s shocked face. I had felt that connection between us and thought Ty had as well. It didn’t take long before he was pushing me away from him as he fell back into the routine of making his silly insults and pretending we hadn’t had another amazing connection.
Just like then, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he returned to his normal behavior and I became the annoying girl whom he couldn’t stand to be around.
I turned away and walked over to my phone to check the time. I had a message from Lincoln I’d somehow missed.
“Lincoln wants to make sure we haven’t killed each other.”
“Why is she up so late?” Ty asked, making his way toward the kitchen. Our little moment appeared to be over.
“Probably the baby.”
I typed back that we were fine and I was feeling better. She didn’t reply, which told me she had fallen back asleep.
As I slowly made my way to the kitchen, I took in a deep breath to prepare myself for things to go back to the way they were only hours ago. Things between Ty and me were civil, and I wanted to keep it that way. I wasn’t in the mood to argue or spit back and forth with him. I was cold and tired. If he wanted to pretend that he hadn’t almost kissed me only minutes ago, then so would I. I’d continue to play the avoidance game like a master.
“Do you want some tea? I saw you had some in your pantry.”
I rubbed the sides of my arms to warm myself up some. “Hot tea sounds good. How are you going to light the stove?” I asked.
He held up the candle lighter I had bought from Etsy and winked at me. My breath stalled in my throat, and I gave him a nod. The light from the lantern cast a glow that made him look even more handsome than he was. It wasn’t fair. I probably looked like shit, and he still looked deliciously hot in the shadows.
Once he had the stove going, he poured some of the bottled waters into the teapot and put it on the fire.
“When do you think the power will come back on?”
“I don’t know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying not to look worried but doing a piss-poor job of it. “Probably not until at least midmorning.”
I sighed and looked at the chair. The thought of sitting again made me wince.
“You need help sitting down?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s feeling better. I’m sure I just bruised it. It’s just tender.”
He nodded.
Then the silence returned, before Ty broke it just as the water started to boil. “So you’re going to buy this place, huh?”
Smiling, I replied, “Yeah, Lincoln clearly doesn’t need it. I thought maybe I could turn the little room in the barn into a workroom.”
“For editing?” he asked, clearly puzzled by that.
I laughed. “No, for setting up my painting studio and such.”
Ty paused for a moment and turned to me. “So it was you who painted that painting in the bathroom?”
“Yeah.”
His brows pulled in some, and he regarded me for a moment or two. “Kaylee, I didn’t know you could paint.”
With a shrug and a half-hearted chuckle, I replied, “I can’t. That’s just something I’ve always dabbled in. A little hobby, if you will. I like staying busy.”
Ty poured the water into the two mugs he had gotten out and handed me one. I wrapped my hands around it and groaned in pure delight.
“So warm.”
He grinned and did the same. “How long have you been painting?”
“I don’t know—since I was around ten, maybe? Once my parents saw I was interested in it and that it kept me busy for hours, they had an entire room set up with easels and paints of every different type. It was a good way to keep me out of their sight.”
He tilted his head as he tried to read my expression. “Did you take lessons?”
Laughing, I shook my head. “Hell no. I just painted what I saw. Sort of like authors who write what they see in their minds. They use words; I use pictures. It’s an outlet for me.”
“Has my mother seen that painting?” he asked.
I thought about it. “No, I don’t think so. I just finished it a few weeks back and hung it up. It’s a picture of you, Brock, Tanner, and Beck. I’ve seen pictures of him at your folks’ place. Your mom was telling me a story about you three older brothers riding out one day toward the mountain range, and how Tanner had begged y’all to let him go. She said the three of you pretended not to notice him behind you, but it was clear you knew he was there.”