Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
But he wouldn’t be a disappointment.
Chapter Four
Luke
Keeping an eye on the building that houses the thrift shop below—and my reluctant woman above—I circle around back of my pickup truck, lifting the blue tarp and staring at the bicycle I just drove fifty miles to purchase. Sure, I could have gotten one locally, but none of the secondhand ones in town seemed special enough for Evie. However, now that the time has come to give her the damn thing, my nerves are picking up speed.
It’s Christmas Eve, and there is finally a bite of cold in the air. And though it will probably be absorbed by the Texas sunshine tomorrow, the coolness of the evening lends authenticity to the holiday, along with the blue strings of lights fading from dark to bright on the eaves of the thrift shop and the scent of apple cinnamon drifting from the church function down the block.
My gaze strays to the second-story window, and I catch sight of Evie at the stove, stirring something up in a pot, spoon in one hand, Sonny in the other. A hefty pressure settles in the dead center of my chest—same one I get every time I’m in the same room as her.
Did I ever really believe I’d find jeans that fit at the thrift shop?
No.
It was always about getting a look at the beautiful woman behind the counter.
The one who is perpetually optimistic yet guarded.
I’ve got a strong gut feeling about a woman who starts over in a small town because of an ant statue and a good memory. This woman, who’d hoof it all the way to my farm to deliver jeans and a rebuke. This woman, whose body and mouth and skin have kept me in a constant state of painful hunger since she allowed me to kiss her.
I aim to keep Evie. Making that happen is going to be one hell of a delicate operation. She doesn’t want a man coming along and messing shit up—again, apparently, though I’ve yet to get the details. I need to be patient. Need to show her that if she allows me into her and Sonny’s lives, it’ll be for the better.
And then I get to spend every day delivering.
Damn, I’m looking forward to it.
Firming my jaw, I lift the bike out of the truck bed and settle it on the sidewalk, in view of the apartment window. After adjusting the big red bow tied to the handlebars, I use the chain and lock to secure it to the bike rack; then I pace for a spell, working up the nerve to climb the stairs to her door. There’s a good possibility she’s not going to appreciate me showing up unannounced. If I’m going to convince Evie to give me a chance, though, I’m going to have to take a couple myself.
Finally, I find myself outside her apartment door, knocking. The TV is muted inside, hesitant steps approaching.
“Hello?”
Every muscle in my body goes as tight as a bowstring at the sound of her voice. “Evie.”
Is that her swallowing? “Luke.”
There’s a moment’s hesitation, followed by the click of a dead bolt disengaging. Relief has me closing my eyes, but they open just as eagerly to catch my first sight of her in twenty-four hours—and Lord, she was worth the wait. Sonny is perched on her right hip, fiddling with her hair. I’m not even sure what to call the dress she’s wearing, only I think it’s technically called a slip. A dress women wear under their dresses, which makes almost no sense, but I’m currently grateful for their existence because this one is nearly see-through. Short too.
I can see damn near all of Evie’s thighs.
The shape of her.
God have mercy on my sanity.
“It’s . . . it’s Christmas Eve. What are you doing here?”
“I brought you a present.”
She sweeps me with a look of growing unease. “Where is it?”
“Downstairs.” I nod at the interior of her apartment. “You can see it through the window. I’ll wait here, if you want.”
Absently, she tosses her hair back to avoid Sonny’s grabby hands. She’s thinking. Weighing pros and cons. Maybe I shouldn’t have put her on the spot. “No, come in,” she murmurs, stepping aside, her lips twitching with humor when I have to duck to clear the doorframe. “Still rocking the jeans, I see.”
“I haven’t taken them off, except to sleep. And shower,” I’m quick to add, lest she think I don’t have good hygiene. “Been getting lots of compliments on them, too.”
“Really? From whom?”
“Mostly the chickens.”
She sets loose the most incredible laugh I’ve ever heard in my life. I feel it everywhere, but especially in my heart. The sound grabs Sonny’s attention, and he watches his mother curiously as they cross to the window, looking out, then down.
“Oh,” she breathes. “That’s a bike.”