Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“That’s really deep,” April says. “Bless his heart.”
Grace chuckles. “The short of it is, the man can’t get his head on board with his dick, and it makes him angry. I say just stay out of his way.”
“That’s been my plan,” I tell them.
“Ladies!” We all turn to look at Aro as he walks in the room.
It’s not unheard of for some of the guys to be in and out of the kitchen during our lunches. Honestly, I’m surprised we’ve had all this time alone so far.
“What are we discussing?”
“We’re having a heated debate over whether we think teenage girls should use tampons.”
“And,” he says, spinning around on his heels. “I’m out.”
A roar of laughter follows him out of the room, and the conversation switches to other things. Harley isn’t brought up again.
Chapter 10
Harley
My attraction to Ali grows each time I see her, and so does my guilt over it. I’m up long before the sun rises this morning because she’s been in the kitchen drinking coffee when I’ve entered for the last three days. It’s almost like we’re in some unspoken competition to see who can get up the earliest. Or maybe she’s like me and just sleeps like shit.
I can’t imagine that the couch provides any level of comfort for her.
I’m trying to convince myself that I’m wanting a quiet cup of coffee when I sneak out of the bedroom, baby monitor in hand, but deep down I know it’s because I want to see her the way I did that first morning, all rumpled and sleepy. I think I’ve missed that these past three days when she’s woken before I did.
I fight a little smile when I see the lump on the living room sofa, and I wonder about my mental health as well, because I also feel relieved despite knowing I’m going to get to see exactly what I was hoping for. My head is a tangled mess of mixed emotions, and it’s done nothing to help my sour mood most days. Blaming her for my attraction is ridiculous. I’ve also learned that fighting those thoughts is just as stupid. So, occasionally, I let them in, like I need to just get them out of the way so I can concentrate on more important worries like not fucking up my daughter because I’m like a fish out of water where she’s concerned. Lana was so much better at anticipating her needs, and I feel like I’m in constant battle with my helpless child, hating how happy she gets when I drop her off at the daycare, but also giving her exactly what she wants because she’s ecstatic to be there.
Once again, I make coffee by the light under the microwave, feeling giddy about being able to make it as strong as I like instead of the weak mix Ali tends to make. I count it as a win that I haven’t complained in recent mornings, but my silence while we have sat and drunk coffee probably doesn’t translate that way to her.
I can be cordial. I know I can, but I’m afraid of what amicable behavior will lead to. It’s already hard enough to keep my eyes off the woman. I knew I wouldn’t be able to the other day when I walked in to find the room empty except for her, April, and Grace. I’ve learned to look out for Grace. The woman misses nothing. I couldn’t be in the room alone with them. I know walking out without a word was probably construed as being rude, and I’ve accepted that Ali will know me as this surly asshole.
I let my eyes flutter closed the second I sit down at the table. Holding the cup of coffee under my nose, I breathe in the scent of alertness, blowing over the top of it in a rush to cool it down enough to consume.
I feel her enter the room before I hear her soft footsteps in the doorway. I hate that even though I’ve kept my distance, I’m still somehow attuned to her presence.
“Morning,” she whispers, her voice still heavy with sleep.
“Morning,” I return, fighting the urge to open my eyes.
Resisting what I ached for when I woke up this morning is harder than I thought, and I cave, letting my eyes open to slits.
I track her to the coffee pot, managing to keep my eyes on her shoulders instead of dropping to the curve of her ass. She makes her coffee quickly, pulling out the same carton of heavy cream from the fridge.
“Have a good day,” she says, as she turns around and walks out of the room. The light rasp of the backdoor opening and closing fills the kitchen.
I honestly feel a little slighted by her abrupt departure, but maybe I brought this sort of reaction on myself. I don’t exactly give off a welcoming vibe these days to anyone, and with Ali, it’s even worse.