Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Grinning, I pull the screen door open, and we step inside the living room.
“Home sweet home,” he says as he carries me to the couch.
I slide off his back, soaking in every last bit of contact with his body. Once I’m off, he turns to face me.
He searches my eyes, the deep browns speckled with a host of gold flecks. I hold my breath, unsure if he’s going to smile, kiss me, or switch back to disagreeable Jack.
He leans forward, lowering his head slowly toward mine. I hiccup a quick breath as my heart smacks against my ribs.
“I’m sure you want a shower, but let’s get you on the couch and that foot elevated first, okay?” he says, reaching beside me and grabbing a pillow. “I’ll get you some ice.”
I blow out a breath and release the hope I had inadvertently gathered.
“Okay,” I say, lying on the couch. I prop my foot on the pile of pillows Jack’s put together. “How’s that?”
“Perfect.”
And with that, he heads to the kitchen, leaving me with a throb in my foot and an ache in my chest. Because for the first time in a long time, I think I want to kiss my husband.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JACK
Irun a hand through my hair and give my reflection a final glance. “Not bad, Reed. Not bad.”
The bathroom is scented with Lauren’s bodywash. She’s used the same brand the entire time I’ve known her, because she remembers her grandmother promising her that if she used it, she wouldn’t get wrinkles.
The thought makes me smile.
I go back to the bedroom and slide on a pair of shorts and shirt. Lauren’s towel is on the edge of the bed. She insisted on a shower, but I hurried her through it and got her back on the couch with a drink and a book—and her ankle propped up on the pillow tower.
My heart beats steadily, encouraged from our interaction today. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go when we boarded the boats. But thanks to those damn kids of ours, I couldn’t have asked for a better ending.
I adjust my cock. Well, aside from ending it with that.
It’s been entirely too long since I’ve slept with my wife. After a huge fight about it at Thanksgiving, I haven’t even brought it up. When she doesn’t want me, it kills a part of my soul.
But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped thinking about her or wanting her, and the anticipation of maybe getting to touch her again makes me feel like I did the night I met her.
Before I can get to the hallway, my phone buzzes on the dresser. Cursing the reception gods—Why can’t phones not work in the cabins at all this year, like they haven’t the last four decades?—I pick it up.
“Hello?” I ask.
“Hey, it’s Tommy. We have a problem.”
I sigh. “What’s going on?”
“The city inspector is here. Someone filed a noise complaint.”
“What for?”
“We’ve had a car on the dyno all morning. The thing is loud as hell, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Fuck. I squeeze my temple. “What’s the inspector saying? Who is it, Hulburt or whatever his name is? The new guy?”
“Yeah, that’s him. He’s just asking questions about what we’re doing and poking around, as they do.”
I drop my hand. “Well, Hulburt is pretty reasonable. Explain to him that we’re legal. Our place is zoned commercial, and we can do whatever we want during business hours.”
“I told him that, and also that the people that moved into the place behind us—because you know they’re the ones that called and complained—knew this was zoned commercial when they bought their house. That’s on them. Our equipment is supposed to be here. That’s what ‘commercial’ means.” He pauses. “I think.”
“That’s what I would’ve told them.”
“Well, maybe he would’ve been more apt to listen to you, because all I’m getting is a threat of a fine.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. I groan.
I rustle through my things on top of the dresser, looking for my keys. It’ll be a solid three hours to the shop, and I’ll have to stop and get gas. Fuck.
The last thing I need is a fine to fight out with the city—not to mention that having a fine on our record, whether I get it removed or not, wouldn’t make us look good. I don’t want the reputation of being a troublemaker or the community to think I’m running a shady business.
“Jones is talking to Hulburt now,” Tommy says. “I was starting to lose my cool.”
That’s two of us.
I find my keys under my hat and unplug my phone charger from the wall. But as I turn to the door, Lauren’s cough travels down the hall.
My stomach clenches. I still.
This is where the rubber meets the road.
If I don’t deal with this, it could cost me hours of my time—if not hundreds of dollars. It could also become a standing issue with the new neighbor. But if I leave . . .