Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
I carry my bags one at a time up the stairs, and by the time I’m done, I’m so exhausted that I lie face-first on the bed, put my head under the pillow, and cry until I fall asleep.
There is a pounding on the door, and I roll, falling off the bed and onto the floor. “You didn’t set the alarm,” I hear growled.
I stand up, pushing my hair out of my face, and glare at Kenton, who is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I looked and didn’t see the alarm to set it.” I copy his posture, crossing my arms over my chest.
“You should have called and asked me where it is.”
I scoff. “With what? Magic? I don’t have your number.”
“You could have asked Link for it.” He shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, but if you wanted me to have your number, I figured you would’ve given it to me,” I retort.
“Did you eat?” he asks, changing the subject suddenly and throwing me off guard.
“Pardon?”
“Did you eat something?”
“No, and I’m not hungry. I’m just really tired,” I tell him, rubbing my face. All I want to do is go to sleep and forget about the last forty-eight hours.
“You need to eat something,” he chides, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands on his hips.
“Okay, don’t get me wrong. I’m really thankful for you looking out for me, but I have been taking care of myself for a very long time. I don’t want or need a babysitter.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugs then looks me over again, his eyes lingering on my chest.
I glance down and groan. Seriously? My boobs are in my bra, hanging over the top of my tank top. I quickly adjust my shirt before narrowing my eyes on him.
He smirks, looking up into my face. “Make sure you set the alarm from now on. The panel is inside the room off the entry, first door to the right.”
“Got it.” My body is doing that hot thing again, and I wonder why it keeps happening when he’s around.
“All right, doll. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He lets his eyes linger on me for a few more moments and then shakes his head, stepping out of the room.
I go to the side of the bed and turn on the light before walking to the door and shutting it. I lean my head back, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply. I run a finger across the tattoo behind my ear before opening my eyes and looking around. I can do this; I have lived through much worse and come out on top. I just need to get a plan in place.
Chapter 2
Word Vomit
It’s been three weeks since I moved to Tennessee. Three weeks of living with Kenton, who I don’t see very often, and when I do, he’s usually leaving for work or coming in before going to bed. One of the longest talks we’ve had was the other day when he came in and told me that he had something for me and to meet him out front. I tucked my Kindle away and followed him out of the house, down the front steps, to a small VW Beetle.
“My cousin’s wife just got rid of it. You don’t have a car, and I know it’s not an easy trek to town.”
I looked from the car, to him, then back again.
“Here’s the key. It has a full tank of gas, new tires, plus a tune-up,” he told me, holding out the key between his large fingers. “This is the part where you say, ‘Thank you,’” he grumbled, looking at me then at the keys in his hand.
“Um…I… Thank you,” I whispered, taking the keys from him with shaky fingers.
He nodded, looking like he was going to say something else, but instead, he left me standing there, looking at the car, dumbfounded by the act of generosity. No one had ever done anything like that for me before.
From that day on, I tried to help where I could. I tried to cook a couple of times, but that was a disaster, so I settled on showing my appreciation in other ways. I kept the house clean, went to the grocery store if I noticed things running low, and even did laundry if I saw it piling up. He told me that I didn’t need to do everything I was doing, but I ignored him. I knew he appreciated my help. He was always busy and seemed to be running himself ragged.
When we did have moments to talk, he smiled more and seemed more at ease with me. I lived for the stolen moments I had with him. It was stupid, but I felt like a lost puppy looking for a bone. I hated and loved that he made me feel like that. I had wondered for a long time if I had somehow become asexual. I hadn’t been interested in a guy since my first and last boyfriend.