Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
As I sit in the chair, I suck in a breath and try to prepare myself for what’s about to come. She talks me through what she’s doing. She brought her cape and wraps it around me. She puts her hand on my shoulder. “I’m getting the scissors out.”
“Okay.”
Snip, snip. I get lost in the sound of her tiny breaths and the clip of the scissors. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Maybe we should save that conversation for another time.”
I sit rigidly in my seat. There’s no way I’m going to let her walk out of here without talking about whatever she came here for. I’ll go crazy. “Put me out of my misery, Liv. What did you want to talk about?”
Instead of answering me, she keeps cutting and randomly running her fingers through my hair. “I like that you call me Liv.”
I grunt in response.
“Tell me about you,” she says. It’s more of a question, and I don’t have the heart to tell her no.
“There’s not a lot to tell, really. I know by now you’ve heard about how I lost my sight. It was two years ago, and doctors have said it’s temporary—I should be getting my eyesight back—but they are not happy with my progress. Walker is bringing in a specialist.”
I stop talking, and she massages my shoulder before attacking my hair again. “What about hobbies? Have any of those?”
“I used to do woodworking. My family owns a furniture store, and we made everything we sold. When I went into the Army and then… to work for Walker, I still spent any time I could making things. But I haven’t been in a workshop since… you know.”
She pauses on my hair and then gasps. “Jason, did you make the furniture in here?”
I can’t help but smile. “Yeah, the coffee table, entry table, kitchen table and chairs and my…bed. My dad brought it all here when I moved in.”
“It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
I feel my chest swell. “They’re pieces I made years ago. They’re probably weathered now.”
Her voice is thick with emotion. “No, gosh, they’re perfect. I can’t believe you made those. They’re beautiful. I want to see the bed before I leave.” She giggles. “That sounds bad… I mean, you know, I want to see the bed you made.”
Fuck me, just hearing her say it has my pulse racing. “Sure,” I choke out. If I don’t change the subject, I can’t be responsible for what happens next. “So what about you?”
She combs my hair with her fingers. “I do hair, as you know. I’m in a book club with Abby and a few of our friends. I enjoy reading.”
“What else?”
She puts her hands on my shoulders. “Looks good. I’m done.”
I nod. “Uh-huh, you’re not getting off that easy. Tell me about you.”
She undoes the cape, and I sit here as she starts putting things away. “There’s not a lot to tell. I’m divorced—”
“You were married?”
She blows out a breath. “Yeah, I was for around three years.”
“What happened?” I ask her and then realize she probably doesn’t want to talk about this. “I mean, if you’d rather not—”
She cuts me off. “No, it’s fine. It’s the past. He cheated on me.”
I move to my feet. “He cheated on you?”
She keeps packing her things away. “Yeah, but it’s fine. I’ve moved on.”
“He sounds like a dumbass.” I could say a few other choice words, but I figure the less I say on the matter, the better.
“He is. I dodged a bullet, though. The last I heard, he’s remarried and his wife is pregnant, and he’s cheating on her too.”
I shake my head. Her ex-husband obviously isn’t a good man, not the kind of man she deserves.
CHAPTER 8
OLIVIA
He growls. He literally growls, and the sound echoes through the room. I can feel the anger vibrating off him as he grimaces in my direction. “He’s an asshole. I hope you know that.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, trust me, I learned my lesson on that one.”
Jason holds his hand out, and I don’t hesitate in putting mine in it. He pulls us back over to the couch, and when I sit next to him, I run my fingers through his hair. “You’re going to have to take another shower. You have hair on you.”
He tilts his head into my fingers, and I scratch at his nape. He grunts as he stops my hand and then brings it down, still holding it against his chest. He’s smiling, and I can’t help but smile too. “What are you smiling about?”
He shrugs, still smiling. “I like when you touch me.”
Dang, why do I like touching him so much? This is only the second time I’ve been around him, and I can’t seem to keep my hands to myself.