Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
As I open my door, Peanut Butter jumps over my lap, making sure he gets out first. Shaking my head, I watch in surprise as he walks right up to the porch, sits down, and barks, looking from me to the door like ‘hurry up and open it.’
“I’m coming, hang on, boy. I was seeing if Kyle texted back yet. Hell, I half-expected him to be sitting on the porch when we got here.”
I unlock the door, and as I turn the knob, Peanut Butter worms his way through the tiny crack and runs inside, barking. I hear a quiet, “Shh,” and freeze in the doorway.
Someone is in my house.
“Get the fuck out of here! Now!” I yell, not taking another step inside. “My dog’s an attack dog and will tear you limb from limb if I say the magic word.”
“What’s the magic word?” Kyle says, coming into view.
“Oh.” I blink. I thought he was an intruder, but he’s got Peanut Butter in his arms, the dog’s long legs dangling and scrabbling through the air as he tries to give Kyle licking kisses.
“Your dog, huh? You stealing him from me?”
I shrug, not apologizing. “It seemed like a good threat. And I didn’t steal him. I told you where he would be. How’d you beat us here, though?”
Kyle grins, looking at me expectantly like I’m missing something important. It takes me an embarrassingly long time before it clicks. “Why are you in my house?”
“Took you long enough. Come here, I want to show you something,” he says, putting Peanut Butter down. The dog quickly hops on my couch and lays his head down on the pillow in the corner, making himself at home.
“If it’s your dick, I’ve seen it,” I say dryly, but I mutter under my breath, “wouldn’t argue with seeing it again, though.”
“I heard that,” he calls back over his shoulder.
I smile at his teasing tone. He doesn’t seem mad, at least. So hopefully, he’ll listen to me.
In the kitchen, I realize my apology is going to have to be a hell of a lot more than a simple ‘I’m sorry.’
“What did you do?” I whisper, looking around in shock.
I’m not sure what I’m seeing. There’s a huge, rolling, wood-topped toolbox in my kitchen where my side door used to be, and where a wall was is now a sliding glass door through which should be my back yard, but instead, there’s a patio.
“Don’t be mad,” Kyle pleads, stepping away from me like I might launch myself at him.
“You put in a door?” I say hollowly, trying to make sense of what I’m looking at. “You moved my patio?”
“I wanted to help fix things so that your business isn’t messed up.”
“You didn’t have to… I could…” I stammer. I can feel the hot sting of tears in my eyes and blink them away. I don’t want to cry because I’m still looking at everything, taking it in.
But the thing I want to see most is looking at me like he’s afraid of my reaction.
It’s then that I do launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. Thankfully, he catches me easily, holding me firmly with his hands cupping my ass. “Thank you so much. I’m so sorry. I thought I had to do it on my own.” I pause to plant a kiss on his lips because I can’t stand not kissing him another second. “I always do everything myself. It’s been my default mode for so long because it had to be, but you…” I kiss him again, feeling the smile on his lips with my own.
“I know you can do anything, Daniela. I don’t doubt that, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here,” he says between kisses.
“I’m sorry I let my temper get the best of me. I was just so mad…” Kiss. “I could feel everything I’ve worked for slipping away…” Kiss. “And I panicked.”
He spins, kicking a chair out of his way so he can plant me on the kitchen table. He steps between my open thighs and grabs a handful of my hair, forcing my eyes to his. “You run to me. When shit goes sideways, you run to me, not from me, okay?”
It’s hard to think that way. I’ve run from every single man I’ve encountered my entire life, even Papa and Xavier to some degree. I don’t depend on them because they let me down, whether they mean to or not. But Kyle hasn’t. Not yet, and if he ever does—because no one is perfect—it won’t be with ill intentions. He wouldn’t hurt me or expect something from me that I don’t want to give.
There is one thing I want to give him, though. Something more important than an answer to his question.