Mr. Picture Perfect – Spruce Texas Read Online Daryl Banner

Categories Genre: M-M Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
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Even if I’m dying to know what’s on his mind.

Even if I’m desperate to kiss him again.

Even if—

I open my eyes, sensing something, and turn.

Noah is standing outside my window, staring blankly through the glass at me, one eyebrow lifted, face scrunched up.

But our eye contact seems to spook him, and he steps back.

I’m out of the car the next moment. “Noah?”

“I thought you left,” he says, surprised.

I leave the side of my car without shutting the door. “Nope. I waited. Like a creep sitting in a car in the dark. For an hour.”

Noah frowns. “Sorry. They kept talking. Apparently they want to run the story tomorrow already. To get the ball rolling.”

“Oh. The one about the festival? Or about the pageant?”

“Both. They’re lumping them together. The story I already wrote about the festival is now how they’re introducing you as one of the bachelors.” He looks at me. “You’re the hero bachelor.”

“Oh. That’s … so soon.”

Suddenly his cute eyebrows pop over the rims of his glasses as a thought strikes him. “Are you okay? After you fell off the car? I was so worried. I thought you might’ve fallen on your bad arm.”

I did—and it hurt like hell. But the last thing I want him to feel is guilt, so I shake my head. “Lucky fall. Fell on my good side.”

He seems to sigh with relief. Then he frowns again. “But now you’ve fallen on both your arms, and—”

“Noah,” I say, cutting him off. “I was hoping we could …”

Then I grow quiet.

What was I intending to say, exactly?

That I was hoping we could pick up where we left off? That I was hoping to jump his bones? That I want him to crawl on top of me like he did an hour ago? That I want to softly cradle his face in my hands like I’d just found long-lost treasure?

Noah lifts his eyebrows again. “Yes …?” he murmurs, a note of hope in his soft voice.

That’s when “confident me” loses all confidence. And instead of asking what I really should ask, I blurt: “Can I drive you home?”

He appears confused. “But I … I live close.”

What am I doing? “It’s dark.”

He glances over his shoulder, as if to check. “It is,” he agrees. I watch him as he continues to reason it out. “I … heard about a … a raccoon someone saw around here. There’s a chance it could have rabies. Judging from how it was described to be acting. Maybe not a … not a very good idea to be walking home. Now. In the dark.”

I give the side of my car a proud pat. “Rabid-raccoon-proof.”

Noah gazes at my car and bites his lip, appearing troubled.

I wonder if he’s reliving it all inside his mind. Our unintended wrestling maneuver on the hood of Mindy’s car. The innocent kiss that precipitated it. The photo he snuck of me when he first came out of the restaurant.

Suddenly his eyes snap to mine. “Okay. I’ll take the ride.”

I smile with relief.

A minute later, we’re in my car slowly driving down the road. I didn’t turn on the radio. Unless I’m heading out to my cousins’, I never do. So the car is silent as we make our way to his home.

We only have a handful of minutes together.

I need to make every second count.

“A left up here,” he says.

I can only drive so slowly before it’s obvious I’m milking time. “So, Noah …”

“After you take the left, I’m the second house on the corner.”

I smile at the road. “I know where you live.”

“You do? Oh. Right. Because we—”

“—both used to live on this street,” I finish for him.

I’m already at the stop sign. After taking the left, we park by the curb in front of his house. Then we sit there and say nothing.

He doesn’t open the door. He doesn’t get out.

He’s just sitting there.

Like I’m sitting here.

Breathing.

Not speaking.

What are we waiting for?

Finally, I muster up the courage. “Noah …”

The second his name flies out of my mouth, he leans over the center console and kisses my cheek.

I turn, surprised.

Noah remains there, hovering near my face, his eyes shining with intention and gleaming in the light shining in from a nearby streetlamp. His lips are still half-puckered.

And his eyes reflect fear.

I stare back at him. “Did you just kiss my—?”

“I was going for your mouth and missed,” he explains.

“Oh.”

Then he goes for my lips.

And this time, he doesn’t miss.

Every nerve ending in my body comes to life as I take hold of his face, locking our mouths together. He quickly grapples for my body, too, as if my touch inspires his. Neither of us can seem to get in the right position to kiss comfortably, everything in the way—the center console, the seats themselves, the steering wheel.

My elbow hits the horn.


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