Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“Kelly.” Gently, he nudged my arm, but I continued to play possum. Could I get him to carry me to the house? Experience a small sliver of my fantasy?
He reached over and checked my pulse, which nearly broke me, but I kept it together.
“After two beers, you pass out?” he muttered. “Seriously?”
Grumbling, he went around to the passenger side of the SUV and opened the door. After unbuckling my seatbelt, he slid one hand behind my back and the other beneath my knees, then lifted me out. Feigning a deep sleep, I looped my arms around his neck and snuggled close—he smelled so good. Had he worn cologne tonight? Or was that just his natural scent?
He kicked the car door shut with one foot, then carried me like a baby toward the house. But after taking the steps up to the porch, he stopped.
“Kelly,” he said, louder this time. “You need to wake up. I don’t know the code.”
I sighed dramatically. “But this is so nice, bear-bear. I like being carried around like your sweet little mudbug.” As I dissolved into laughter, I was abruptly set on my feet.
“Open the door,” he said gruffly. “And no more playing tricks on me.”
“Why not? I particularly liked it when you took my pulse. Nice to know you cared that I wasn’t dead.” We went inside, and he immediately started looking around, like he thought someone might have broken in.
“What are you doing?” I asked, removing my Two Buckleys cap and setting my purse down.
“I’m checking to make sure it’s safe.” He disappeared down the back hallway, and I went over to the kitchen.
“Want one more beer?” I called out, opening the fridge.
He appeared in the living room again, looking uncertain. “A beer?”
“Yeah. We didn’t get to finish our last drink. I thought maybe if you know how to start a fire, we could sit out by the fire pit.”
“I know how to start a fire.”
“Great.” Grabbing two beers, I shut the fridge with my hip. “Let’s go.”
“See? Isn’t this nice?” Relaxing in my chair, just this side of tipsy, I stretched my feet toward the fire, which crackled and sparked.
“Sure.” Next to me, Xander seemed anything but relaxed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes on the flames when they weren’t darting around like he was looking for photographers in the trees. Our two empty beer bottles lay on the gravel between us. He’d talked very little since we came out here, no matter how I tried to draw him out.
“What’s got you so tense?” I looked around. “No paparazzi, no Hart Throbs, no bears.”
“Bears?” He looked over at me, one thick dark eyebrow cocked.
I laughed. “My mom is convinced I’m going to be mauled by a black bear while I’m here. She had a premonition about it.”
“Your mom has premonitions?”
“Yes. She calls it ‘the sight.’ She claims certain women in her family have this ability to see the future in these vivid daydreams they get. As soon as she heard about my plan to take this vacation alone, she had a vision of me being attacked by a giant, angry bear who wanted to eat me up, Little Red Riding Hood style.”
“Interesting.”
“I told her there are no predators here—of course, that was before I came out of the shower and found you standing in my living room.” I gave him a pointed look.
“That was an accident. I’m sorry again for scaring you. And for . . . seeing you naked.” His eyes darted toward my bare legs.
“Oh, come on.” I used his words from earlier today to poke at him. “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy the view?”
“I was just as uncomfortable as you were.”
I looked over at him and smiled knowingly. “I doubt that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“The truth, huh?” I looked at the fire again. “Should we talk about the truth?”
“What do you mean?”
“At the bar. That kiss.” I kept my eyes on the flames. “Was it really fake?”
“Of course it was.”
“Because it didn’t feel fake.” I braved a glance at him. “Especially the second time.”
“Well, it was. Entirely fake. The whole thing.”
Talk about protesting too much.
I smiled. “So you didn’t want to kiss me back there?”
“Of course not.”
“And you don’t want to kiss me now?”
He hesitated just a second too long. “No.”
I stood up. Moved in front of him.
“Kelly.” He spoke my name, but what he meant was, Don’t.
I leaned over and put my hands on his shoulders. Pushed him back against the chair while I straddled his thighs. “Are you sure about that?”
He didn’t answer. But he didn’t push me away, either. His forearms lay on the arms of the chair, his fingers curled over the edge. The fire popped and hissed behind me.
I flattened my palms on his chest and slid them down his stomach, muscles rippling beneath the cotton. I toyed with his belt.