Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Blah blah blah. Of course I like my brain. I’m not an idiot, but sometimes a woman just wants to feel desired. It wouldn’t be so bad if occasionally Andrew had to fight to keep his hands off me.
Now, Nate’s hands curl into fists, and when he sees me notice, he flattens them out on his thighs and closes his eyes.
“I can smell your shampoo,” he tells me.
I swear he sounds almost like he’s in pain. Maybe I need to hurry this up. He probably didn’t anticipate it taking so long. I run my hands through his hair and decide I’ll leave the top a bit longer than the sides. Nate has the perfect sort of hair for an at-home haircut. There’s a wave to it so as it continues to dry, it hides all the flaws.
When I’m nearly done, I step back and give it a once-over, find a spot I need to trim a little more, and then continue on until I’m confident I’ve done, if not a great job, at least a pretty good one.
I prop my hands on my hips and smile. “Done.”
He eyes me from his seat on the chair. “Yeah? How do I look?”
Like hell am I going to answer that question truthfully.
“Fine,” I say through clenched teeth. “Go take a look and tell me what you think.”
He stands and shakes his towel out onto the floor, promising to sweep up the mess in a minute. Then he hurries up the stairs, and from the second-floor bathroom, he calls out. “It looks good!”
I release a nervous breath, glad to be done with that. Now, on to coffee.
Nate comes bounding back down the stairs, somehow better looking than before. So help me, if he ever trimmed his beard, I would pass out on the spot. Just up and die right then and there.
“Okay, sweep up while I make coffee, and then take a seat,” I tell him. “I’m calling a meeting.”
He looks over at me with an expression that says, Who do you think you’re talking to?
I swallow and try not to lose all my confidence. “You promised me a conversation about work, and now I’m going to make good on it.”
CHAPTER 9
NATE
I pull the chair back from the kitchen table and take a seat with my coffee.
Summer is already sitting across from me, prepared as if she’s going into corporate battle. She’s found pens and lined them up neatly. There are two notepads (presumably one for each of us) and a spiralbound booklet that’s as thick as a textbook. The title on the cover reads Cosmos Trilogy Notes.
Good lord.
“10 minutes,” I tell her before taking a sip of my coffee.
She made a fresh pot, and it’s good. I’ll be sad to go back to my crappy stuff when she leaves.
She frowns. “Until…?”
“That’s how long we’ll discuss the book.”
Her brows shoot up, and she grins. “Sheesh. That’s a short workday.”
“I have things to do.”
Namely, I’d like to get the hell out of the kitchen. I needed a haircut and I’m glad it’s done, but I was playing with fire letting Summer touch me like that. There’s no way she didn’t notice my reaction to her when she stood between my legs trimming my hair. I sat stock-still, barely breathing as she moved around me. It seemed like a good idea to have her give me a trim, save me the trouble of driving to Kendal, but then she wove her fingers through my hair and chills went down my spine. I chastised myself the whole time, but it didn’t help. Everything about her affects me. The smell of the shampoo she purchased at Martin’s store, the cut of her simple V-neck shirt, the little sounds she made when she was satisfied with how things were going. She’d chew on her lip as she worked, studying my hair, trying to make it look perfect.
I’m staring at her lips now when she slides a notepad and pen toward me.
“Okay then, I guess we should get started if the clock is ticking.”
Her tone is chipper; she isn’t letting my bad attitude get to her. She whips open her typed notes and starts flipping through pages like she’s on a mission.
“You ate my chocolate.”
She pauses and peers up at me from beneath scrunched brows. “Your chocolate?” Then a second later, realization dawns. Her expression turns wary. “How’d you find out?”
I sit back in my chair with my coffee. “I wanted some when I got home last night. You can imagine my surprise when there was none left.”
“Did you go looking for it after you carried me to bed?” she inquires gently. “You could have just left me there, y’know. I wasn’t uncomfortable.”
I shrug. “You were hanging halfway off the couch.”
It’s a partial lie. I got home last night to find Dog waiting for me near the back door. I let him in and gave him some food and water. I didn’t realize Summer was asleep in the living room until I was heading over to put out the fire. She was on her side on the couch, her lips parted, her hair spilling out around her. Her blanket had slipped down so I knew she must be cold. I never considered leaving her there. I finished up downstairs, walked over, and hoisted her up into my arms. She didn’t stir, and I had no trouble getting her upstairs. She was easy to carry, dead weight and all.