Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
When I’m back inside the safety of my room, I press my back against the wall next to the door and take three big steadying breaths. I ball my hands into fists and release them, trying to expel the coiled tension. I close my eyes and think of this morning at the beach and the fun I had with Jared and Joshua. I think of Mitchell and his easy smile and how awesome I felt after our night together. I think of laughing, dancing customers enjoying their night at Cloud 9, a place of fun and happiness.
I remember why I’m in Australia in the first place. Escaping from home was the only way I could deal with the pressure this year brings.
Just as I’ve finally found some equilibrium, there is a knock at the door.
I want to ignore it, but I can’t. Whoever is there knows I’m in here.
When I turn the handle and pull the door open, I find the one person I’m the wariest of facing right now.
Thomas.
"Hey Dawn," he says. His warm brown eyes scan my face as though he’s checking for more tears.
"Hey."
"I wanted to check if you’re okay."
His directness takes my breath away. "Of course. I’m fine."
"That song," he says tentatively. "It made you cry. I’m sorry."
"I’m fine, Thomas." Taking a step back to put some distance between us, I place my hand over my throat, which has tightened from his words.
"You don’t seem fine, and I wanted to let you know that you can talk to me if you need a shoulder. I’m a good listener, and I’m good at keeping secrets."
I swallow down the lump and fold my lips between my teeth before I respond, knowing my words can sometimes come out sharper than I intend them. "Sometimes talking doesn’t help," I say, and shrug.
"So, what does?"
Framed by the doorway, Thomas is beautiful. With floppy black curls and eyes as warm as summer, he’s like a Mediterranean dream.
He reaches out and takes my hand, holding my fingers so gently between his that tears prick my eyes. "Fucking," I say. "Dancing. Eating. Drinking. Exploring. Friendship. Never staying in one place too long."
"Living for the day," he says, taking a step closer.
"Exactly."
"So, which of those do you need tonight?" he asks. "Exploring and moving on might not be great options, but I make great pancakes and we have enough liquor outside to kill us both a hundred times over. I have a playlist on my phone for dancing."
I notice he leaves out the option of fucking, even though that’s what I led with. And his avoidance of the thing he’d definitely enjoy the best makes Thomas even more appealing.
"I’m too full for pancakes," I say. "And I think the smell of alcohol would make me heave this late at night. But we could dance?"
The smile that Thomas gives me is broad, open, and genuine. I take a couple of steps back to give him room to come inside, and he closes the door behind him. The bed looms large in the space, but Thomas doesn’t let his gaze drift there. Instead, he focuses on his phone, scanning through what looks to be an impressive music collection before he finds a suitable song.
The first bars of the song play, and he rests his phone on the edge of a shelf, reaching to take my hand. He’s not shy when he pulls me close and wraps his arms around me. My face is at his shoulder, close enough that his fresh, masculine scent is all around me. He leads us with a confidence I didn’t expect, and a rhythm I absolutely did, humming along to the song as we move in small circles. Within seconds, I relax in his arms, allowing the notes to wash over me, soothing the coiled tension, and softening my sharp edges. Thomas, in response, pulls me closer. His arms surround me, filling me with a sense of safety. Everything feels simple in this cocoon. Our bodies move easily together, and I close my eyes and dwell happily with this man who cared enough to come to check that I was okay and who offered to do anything to make me feel better.
I wonder about how so many awesome men managed to find each other and set up a business together. It has to be unusual. In my whole life, I haven’t found nine women who could do the same.
I think about how content I am in this new place, after such a short space of time, and my mind drifts to the inevitable moment when I’ll have to leave, because I will.
"I can hear your mind whirring," Thomas murmurs, jolting me from my thoughts.
"Is my brain that noisy?"
"Absolutely." The smile in his voice feels affectionate. I’m always conscious that I’m not the easiest person to like. I can be upfront and out there, and it’s off putting to some. But not this man, it would seem.