Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“So,” I say to break the silence, turning to face Griff instead of watching the waves crash against the shore. He waits until I’m ready to keep going. I’m noticing more and more he’s the strong silent type. He’s also a man who takes care of you when you can’t take care of yourself. Water, Tylenol, and a scrawled note saying, ‘Drink this, take the meds, Griff.’ That was all, but it was substantial in a way that his note is tucked away in the bottom of my nightstand drawer. “I didn’t,” I start to say when Griff’s hand comes up, fingers brushing against my cheek, moving the tendrils of hair that are currently stuck to my lips away. I lose my train of thought. I lose every piece of me when Griff is near, the way his scent surrounds me the closer we get. It clung to his suit jacket, and it took everything I had not to bring it to my nose while wearing it and inhaling the scent deeply.
“What were you saying?” His honey-gold eyes hold mine captive. His sunglasses make it easy for me to stare at him without him realizing, hopefully. It’s probably wishful thinking, though. And what does this man do? The unexpected. His hand stays where it is, thumb holding my hair back, while the rest of his fingers are holding my hair back, gently massaging my scalp. Maybe it’s a good idea for his borrowed sunglasses. Griff can’t see my eyes closing, but I’m sure he can hear the sigh that leaves my mouth. This week has been hard. I’ve done everything I can to make sure things were taken care of. The only bad part that’s not in this whole scenario is where I’m supposed to live. I was that girl. My lease was almost up, so I let my landlord know I’d be moving out. Zach’s place was bigger than mine, and it made sense to move in with him. Boy, was I wrong. Now, I’ve got a week to vacate my place, and it’s filled with more boxes than I care to admit. My obsession with poetry books is crazy, even I can admit that, the older the better. I refuse to part with them or downsize my collection. The warning signs were there, red flag after red flag, not a beige one in sight. Yet I still didn’t see him and Mel together.
“Well, I… uh, never got to say thank you for taking care of me. I know that wouldn’t be anyone’s idea of a great way to spend a Saturday night. I’m just, well, really thankful.” My eyes are finally open, watching to see what he’ll do with the words I gave him. I made a complete ass out of myself, talking about the lack of orgasms Zach was able to manage to give me, and I’m pretty sure I threw my arms around his body, nuzzled his neck, not to mention my tongue snuck a taste of the column of his throat. Yeah, tequila definitely lowers my inhibitions. What it doesn’t do is allow me to lose my memory. Another traitorous bitch I need to quit. Tequila, a best friend named Melissa, and an ex-fiancé. Though sadly, I’m still tied to the dickface until I get everything figured out, but that will have to wait. He’s on what would be our honeymoon, and me, well, maybe I’m not much better. Because Griffin is right here in front of me, and the only thing I can think about is how it would feel to be beneath him.
“Stormy, I give you any reason that I wasn’t where I wanted to be?” His question brokers no room for argument. It’s gruff but not in a stern way. In a way that leaves no discussion necessary, which is hard for me to swallow because I’ve yet to show him how appreciative I am.
“No. That still doesn’t mean a person can’t say thank you.” I start to take a step back, but he clearly doesn’t like that idea. The hand cupping my cheek, so to speak, pulls me into his body. We’re close, too close and if we want to keep the gossip out of the tongue wagers mouths we should back away from one another, except we don’t.
“You said it. It’s over and done.” He leaves it at that, making me think this is a bad idea. It couldn’t be all in my head. The man is basically marking his territory right now and earlier at the bar.
“Well, okay. I guess that’s all.” There’s no need to stick around once I’ve said thank you. I mean, sure, I could have baked him cookies or offered to take him out to dinner, but life is a bitch. My kitchen is packed and, well, any extra spending is not happening while I figure out where I’m moving in a week. Does anyone know how hard it is to find a place to live in seven days? I do. It’s near impossible, and the longer I procrastinate, the worse it gets. My mom said I could move in with her. Sure, it wouldn’t be for long, just until an apartment became available in my current complex or another that would be in my budget. It’s all a pain in the ass to deal with since I’m a hair stylist. We get paid differently, and it’s a nightmare to get that ready to submit to a bank or rental company. If I were to take my mom up on her offer, well, that would also mean living with my fun, crazy, never-stops-moving aunt. I love her, I do, but I also like the quiet, and there won’t be a lot of that should I move in with them.