Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“You don’t think they’ll appreciate the extra hand?” He reaches out like he means to touch me, then combs through his hair instead. “You know you’re welcome to move in here. I’ve got the space.”
“What did I tell you about coming to my rescue, Austin?”
“Afraid it can’t be helped,” he says.
My stomach twists and tangles like the raspberry canes. I know what I need to say next is going to make me want to sink into the dirt at my feet, but it needs to be said.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I tell him.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“Oh, but I do.” I rub the inner corners of my eyes so I don’t have to look at him. “The whole mess with Jeremy and then...what happened in your truck.”
“Kenzie, I’m the one who should be sorry.”
“No, you were just trying to stop me from doing something really stupid. Anyway, I’m usually a lot better at telling when people are interested in me. I blame the tequila.” I force my lips to turn up at the corners, but the muscles in my face won’t hold the smile.
Austin squints. “You think I’m not interested in you?”
“You didn’t seem too interested when we were in your room last night.”
He irons out his beard with a sigh. “I brought you back here in part because I didn’t want you going home with Jeremy. But I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you.”
Wanted. Past tense...
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Oh?”
“But I couldn’t stand the thought of you touching yourself, or me, because you thought it was something you had to do.”
“That’s not why I did it. I wanted to be with you, too.”
The heat in his gaze is like a warm breeze rushing over my skin. Awareness ricochets throughout my body, from my pounding heart to the bone-deep ache between my thighs.
I gasp as Austin strokes the side of my face.
“What do you want now, Kenzie?”
I want you, Daddy... I bite my lower lip. Out here in the open, the D-word feels too intimate, like a secret wish you’d only tell your diary. Austin’s not my boyfriend and he hasn’t asked to be. I can’t call him Daddy. But I do want him, so I say, “I want you to kiss me.”
He brings his smile close to mine.
My pulse performs cartwheels as our lips brush. I’m vaguely aware of my coffee spilling on the grass, but I’m too caught up in the moment to care. This berry-scented kiss is more reserved than the one Austin laid on me last night, less of a claim and more like an invitation. It draws me in.
I sigh as he cups my jaw and pulls away.
“Stay another night,” he whispers.
The carnal promise in his tone coaxes my nipples to a point. After last night’s debacle, I’m tempted to take him up on his offer of a do-over. But I already promised my time to someone else.
“I can’t,” I murmur, pressing my palm to his sun-warmed chest. “I told Hollywood I’d be home in time to help with dinner. Teagan’s bringing the kids.”
He breathes a heavy sigh. “I guess it wouldn’t be right to leave the pregnant woman high and dry.”
“No.” I chuckle. “It wouldn’t.”
He palms my upper arms, his expression thoughtful. A light, fluttery feeling I recognize as hope finds a perch in the center of my chest.
After the immature crap I pulled last night, the best man I’ve ever known still wants to kiss me. What’s more, I’m not just tolerating his touch; I’m basking in it, like the sun on my skin and the chorus of birdsong in the trees above us. It sounds contrived, but idyllic moments like these don’t just fall into my lap. I want to cherish this feeling before it inevitably slips through my fingers like sand.
“It’s still early,” Austin says. “I’m sure I’ve got some spare gloves lying around. Want to help me clean out the raspberry patch before I take you home?”
His heart thuds against my palm, still resting on his chest. For once, my stomach doesn’t feel like a tangle of indecision.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Good.” The force of his gaze breaks over me like a wave, in contrast to his gentle grasp on my arms. I hold my breath and wait for him to tack another word onto the end of that sentence.
Call me a good girl... Please...
He steps back, placing us out of each other’s reach.
“I’ll go get those gloves,” he mumbles.
I plaster a smile onto my face as tendrils of disappointment encircle my throat like vines and squeeze.
6
mckenzie
I tip the container of mixed greens into a large wooden bowl. “What kind of dressing did you want on the salad?”
“Honey balsamic,” Hollywood says. “But the dressing doesn’t go on until right before we serve it.” She stirs the pink tomato sauce in the pan on the stove, then teases a strand of spaghetti from the pot of boiling water. “Taste this and tell me if it’s done.”