Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I squeezed my eyes shut now, trying to shake it off. But the real problem wasn’t the way he’d looked at me. It wasn’t the heat in his gaze or how my stomach had twisted at the sight.
It wasn’t just how he looked at me or how I felt when I was around him—it was something worse. My old neighbor.
I’d seen Roque going into her house a few times now, and even though I told myself it didn’t matter, that it shouldn’t matter, it did. It cut deeper than I wanted to admit, a quiet ache I couldn’t ignore. But the worst part wasn’t just seeing it happen—it was how he looked at me afterward, like he knew I saw, like he wasn’t even trying to hide it, like he was waiting for me to say something.
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as I lay there, staring into the darkness, my chest aching with something sharp and unfamiliar. Should I ask? Did I even want to know the answer?
Before I could spiral any further, Roque shifted beside me, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me back against him without even waking. I froze, my pulse jumping as his slow, steady breathing filled the quiet space between us. His warmth seeped into me, grounding me, making it impossible to ignore how natural this felt.
Before, he’d never held me like this. Before, it had only ever been sex—something raw, physical, and over as soon as it ended. But now, wrapped up in him like this, it felt different, like something was shifting between us in a way I didn’t understand.
And I had no idea what to do with that.
Chapter 7
Sayla
Roque pulled on his thick jacket, zipped it up to his throat, and stomped his boots down for extra warmth before grabbing the ladder leaning against the house.
“The snow’s getting too damn heavy,” he muttered, securing the base before starting his climb. “Roof’s not meant to hold that much weight.”
I watched him disappear over the edge, his boots crunching through the thick layer above me. A few moments later, a sharp thud echoed through the air as he started shoving the snow off in chunks.
As I leaned against the doorframe, arms wrapped around me for warmth, my gaze drifted toward my house across the road.
The roof was buried.
The sheer weight of the snow pressing down on it had to be ridiculous. Given the luck I’d had lately, it’d be just right for it to finally give in and collapse, crushing my ceiling and adding even more work to the already never-ending list of disasters my house had thrown at me.
I sighed, shaking my head at the thought.
Before I could dwell too much on it, Roque’s voice rang out from above.
“Timber!”
I barely had time to register what he’d said before a massive pile of snow tumbled down from the roof, smacking against my legs and pinning me to the spot. The icy weight pressed in instantly, shocking me with how heavy it was.
“Goddammit, Roque!” I yelped, trying to kick my way free, but it was no use. My boots were completely buried, and my jeans were already soaked through.
A deep, familiar laugh came from the roof. “I told you to move.”
I glared up at him, squinting against the bright white sky. “You did not tell me to move. You yelled timber like this was a goddamn lumberjack competition!”
He snorted. “Same thing.”
“It is not the same thing, you ass!” I tried again to wriggle free, but my feet weren’t going anywhere.
Still chuckling, Roque made his way to the edge, one brow raised in amusement as he peered down at me. “You stuck, sweetheart?”
I gritted my teeth. “No, I’m just lying here for fun.”
“Thought so.”
Before I could formulate a sufficiently murderous response, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Given my current state of immobility, it took some effort to pull it out, but I managed to do so and groaned the second I saw the caller ID.
Dad. Aw, hell, guess he’d seen the text I’d sent.
Taking a deep breath, I answered, bracing myself for the inevitable.
“You’re staying where?” His voice was deep, firm, and already laced with disapproval.
Even though we were on the phone, I just knew Roque could hear him because I could see him fighting back a smile. His shoulders began shaking, and he half-buried his face in the collar of his hoodie.
Before I could answer, Dad continued, his voice dropping into that tone that meant he was this close to losing his patience. “And you’re staying there, why?”
“Honey, she’s already explained this to you twice,” Mom’s voice sighed from the background. “She has a bath in her living room, broken pipes and electrical wires hanging everywhere, a hole in the ceiling, the other pipes have bur—”
“You’re not helping,” I hissed, knowing she could hear me since I was on speakerphone. “That’s like when you break a bone, and someone keeps poking it to see if it hurts.”