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)
And yet here he was, eating my muffins.
“Can I have another?”
“Of course,” I answered. “I made them for you.”
Ugh, shut up, girl.
“And my mom, of course. But I already left her one,” I added hastily.
"Just one?" he asked teasingly.
"Yeah, uh . . . she doesn't have much of an appetite."
Shut up, Melissa. Just shut up. You don't want him feeling sorry for you. And Mom doesn't want people to know that she’s sick.
It was weird, but it almost like she was embarrassed about being sick. Like it was her fault. Something that wasn’t polite to talk about.
"Are you going to ride him today?" I asked as Nick ran his hand over Hendrix's back.
“I was thinking about it,” he said. “I don't have to be at work until five.”
“Why did you come so early?” I blurted. “I mean, you must really need to catch up on your sleep,” I added, feeling like a dork.
He shrugged, not looking at me. “I like coming here in the morning.”
"I like it, too," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. Wait. Did it sound like I meant I liked him? “The mornings are so peaceful,” I added, trying to make it seem like I hadn’t been fixated on his visits. Even though, Lord knows, I was.
Good cover, I thought with an inner eye roll.
He finally looked at me, and there was something so intense, so somber, in his gaze it nearly took my breath away.
"Ride with me," he said softly. But there was something behind his words. Almost like there was a hidden meaning. Like he was asking for more than company on a ride.
I nodded, suddenly too choked up to speak. Without a word, we saddled Hendrix together. Then he walked me to Bluebell's stall and helped me saddle her up, too.
We walked out of the paddocks to the fields with the reins held loosely in our hands. I had the craziest feeling that he wanted to hold my hand. But that was silly, wasn't it?
I started to mount Bluebell. I was surprised when Nick offered me his interlocked hands.
“My boots are too dirty,” I murmured softly. It was like there was a spell over the land. It was misty and quiet and gray. It felt like a church, as if speaking out loud was almost wrong.
“I don't mind,” he said, his voice equally reverent.
I felt shy as I looked at his long fingers laced together. I was almost ashamed to placed my crusty old boot in his big, strong hands. He had beautiful hands. Tanned, masculine, with long, elegant fingers. But I did it anyway. I swung my leg up and over and waited for him to mount.
With the soft click of his tongue, we started off.
We rode in silence. It was nice. There was nothing awkward about it. I just didn't feel the need to speak.
"So, what do you do?" he asked suddenly. "With the rest of your day, I mean."
I startled and then stole a quick glance at him. He was watching me intently. For a second, I got the strange impression that he’d been watching me the whole time. I cleared my throat.
"I’m pretty busy with the barn and the horses. I make lunch and dinner for Mom. And sometimes, I read a little bit before bed. It's not very exciting,” I added, knowing I must sound like a dud.
“It sounds nice," he said.
"You're joking, right? Your life must be so much more exciting."
“I’ll take satisfying over exciting any day. And it’s not really. That exciting, I mean.”
“Riding your bike must be exciting, at least. And hanging out in a bar.”
He laughed.
“Nobody calls them bikes. But yeah, I love being on the road. The bar is okay. My brothers are there most nights. But it’s not exciting. Not anymore,” he added, still staring at me.
"Wait. You have brothers?" I asked, on the verge of making a joke. I wanted to know if they all looked like him. Not that it mattered. Nick wasn't just insanely handsome. There was just something about him that I loved. He had a quiet confidence about him. He was intelligent. Kind. Very manly. There were lots of things about him to love, if I were honest with myself.
"Not brothers in blood but brothers all the same," he said. "Most of them are settled down now. It makes a guy think."
I couldn't picture him settling down but I nodded anyway.
“There’s more to life than riding fast and drinking,” he added.
"Satisfaction, you mean."
"Exactly. Having a few beers is well and good, but there's no thrill. Not at my age. Now you, on the other hand . . . you should be out having fun with your friends."
I gave him a rueful grin.
"I'd have to have friends for that to happen. Besides, I'd be done by eight o'clock at night."