Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Are you working?” she asked sweetly, not pulling away from my obvious arousal. Goddamn if I didn’t love her for it.
“Yeah, I bartend tomorrow. But I don’t have to be there until six. We could go for a ride. Or have lunch.”
She smiled and bit her lip again. Fuck, I loved it when she did that. It meant she was considering things. Deciding what to say. Then she nodded, and I felt like a puddle of goo.
“That would be nice. I could make a picnic.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I’m trying to get better at cooking. I need the practice.”
I pressed a quick kiss to her lips, resisting the urge to drag her into the stables and have my way with her. I had a feeling she might not mind. Well, not right away. We were both feeling this crazy attraction. It was a relief to give in to it, even though I had to keep the brakes on.
I didn’t want her to have any regrets. Not about her first time. Not about me.
And a picnic sounded like a really great fucking way to break the ice a little bit more . . . some touching . . . a blanket to spread out on . . . fuck, my cock got even harder at the thought.
I kissed her again, quickly, and stepped away before I could change my mind.
“Let me walk you to the door.”
She nodded happily, and I followed her, giving her another brief kiss before she went inside. I stopped by the stables to see Hendrix.
“What have I gotten myself into, boy?” I asked my horse as he lazily munched on hay. But I was smiling. It looked suspiciously like the damned horse was smiling back at me, too.
Whatever the fuck was happening, it felt good. Gravity defying. Earth shattering. But so fucking sweet, I didn’t care if the world ended.
Not if she was there with me.
I spent the rest of the night dreaming about all the things I could do with my girl at a picnic.
Chapter Eleven
Melissa
I was grinning ear to ear as I did my morning chores. It was hard to believe the miraculous turn my life had taken. Nick liked me. Not forever, I was sure. But not like a kid. He liked me like a girl, at least for now. Enough to introduce me to his friends and spend time with me. I knew better than to think anything would come of it, but for now, I would enjoy the ride.
But . . . the girls had said Nick didn’t play the field. It was hard to believe, but maybe it was true. Maybe there was a chance that he really wanted to be my boyfriend.
Either way, my insane-level crush was coming true and I was going to enjoy every freaking second of it!
And maybe, just maybe . . . Nick would want to relieve me of my virginity. I was painfully embarrassed to be a virgin at this age. I’d made the mistake of admitting my lack of experience to a group of girls in the dorms over a game of truth and dare. That had not gone over too well.
Apparently, it was cute for a freshman to be a virgin, but after that, not so much. I’d been a sophomore at the time. By the time junior year started, I’d been a bit of a laughingstock. A few guys had tried, and I’d even kissed a few, but it was painfully obvious that they were just after the ‘score’ of being the one to deflower me.
Plus, I was chubby. Guys didn’t chase chubby girls all that much. But maybe, just maybe, some guys did?
I’d picked out my outfit already, feeling slightly ridiculous about it. I was wearing a denim pinafore that had been my mom’s. It was long enough and sturdy enough to ride in, but the waist nipped in nicely. Retro, but not in a cheesy way. It was one of my few cute outfits the girls at school had oohed and ahhed over. You could wear something under it, or not. I was thinking . . . not. My cleavage was by far my best feature, and some people had said over the years that I had nice eyes. I was hourglass shaped, just like my mom, which was why I was able to wear so many of her older things.
Work with what you got, girl, I told myself, refusing to start picking myself apart. I knew that it wasn’t like I was going to knock his socks off with my good looks. He was far better looking. But I would make a killer picnic basket. And I would not hide my curves.
Game on, Nick. Game on.
I spent the next few hours roasting a chicken and setting aside a plate with a plump breast for Mom. I made chicken salad sandwiches with the rest. I also made potato salad and put together a Tupperware full of sliced tomatoes in case Nick wanted them on his sandwich. I skipped onions in all of it, even though they made potato salad taste better.