Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“No, I’m good,” I mutter, and she shrugs like “your loss” before making herself a bowl of cereal and climbing onto one of the barstools. Knowing I can’t watch her eat, because it’s just one more form of torture—yes, even the way she eats cereal turns me on—I head for the door, saying, “Loki, come.”
“I’ll be out when I’m finished.”
“Take your time.” I leave, grabbing my coat and taking my coffee with me out the door. Snow fell overnight, not a lot, but enough to cover the ground and Gia’s Jeep. Going to the garage, I punch in the code then grab one of the snow removal brushes out of the barrel in the corner, to clean off her windows. Once I have that done, I rearrange a few things in the garage so she can park inside from now on, and then go about finding the spare door opener for her.
“It snowed,” Gia observes, coming around the corner through the open garage door right as I locate the second opener. “I didn’t think it would ever snow. It hasn’t since I’ve been here even though it’s been cold enough a few times.”
“When it snows, it’s normally not much, but we do get it from time to time. Do you like snow?”
“This?” She waves her hand toward the open door. “I can totally handle this much snow.” She smiles. “I used to hate winter in Chicago, because all it did was snow and snow and snow. Me and Nat had to clean our own driveway and the sidewalk in front of our house, even though we were renting. It was a big driveway, and Nat is smaller than me, so it sucked. Sometimes it would take us all day to get it cleaned up,” she finishes, looking out the door, then her eyes come back to me filled with softness. “You cleaned off my car.”
“Catch.” I toss her the extra door opener and she catches it. “From now on, park in the garage. That way you don’t have to worry if it snows.”
“You really are too good to me,” she says softly, getting closer. “I will never be able to repay you for everything you have done.” She reaches out, resting her hand on my bicep, that small touch skimming through me causing my blood to heat.
“Like I told you before, I don’t mind.”
“Still, thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” She squeezes, and my hand balls into a fist to keep myself from wrapping it in her hair and kissing her. Her eyes flare like she knows what I’m thinking, and her hand drops away.
“I’m ready to go. Are… are you ready, or…?” she stutters out looking away from me.
“I’m ready.” Her eyes come back to me. “Go get in your Jeep,” I urge, and she licks her lips, not moving except to drop her eyes to my mouth.
“You’re making it really fucking hard not to kiss you, Gia,” I tell her honestly, and her eyes shoot up to mine.
“We can’t,” she whispers, unmoving. “With us living together, that wouldn’t be smart.”
“You’re probably right,” I reply, seeing disappointment in her eyes when I agree with her. Fuck, why did I agree with her? “Go get in your Jeep and pull out so I can do the same.”
“Right.” She shakes her head before spinning on her heels and heading for her Jeep. Getting in, she starts it up then backs out, and I get in my SUV and do the same, then hit the remote for the garage, closing the door.
Following her down the driveway and then through town, I wonder why the fuck I didn’t kiss her. I could have; she wanted me to. I could see it in her eyes that she wanted it, but I didn’t pull the trigger.
“Idiot,” I tell the windshield, as I pull in and park next to her at her grandmother’s. Getting out, I meet her at the hood of her Jeep, but she doesn’t acknowledge me. Her eyes are glued to the house.
The place looks bad, but it could be worse. Half the roof is gone, the yellow siding melted and stained with black soot, with broken out windows on the side and front of the house where the kitchen was, and “Caution” tape is stretched across the front door. “I’ll call Dad when this is over and have him bring down some tarps and wood from his place. He and Tide can help me cover the roof and board up the place while you’re visiting your grandma. That way, if it snows again, it will be protected.”
“I didn’t realize it was so bad,” she whispers, and I reach out, taking her hand after hearing pain in her voice. “We were in there.”
My stomach muscles bunch. I don’t need the reminder that she was in there when it was on fire, or that she had to drag her grandmother’s limp body outside, passing out herself after getting them help. When Mom called to tell me what happened, I couldn’t get to the hospital fast enough. I needed to see for myself that she was alive and breathing.