Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 178688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 893(@200wpm)___ 715(@250wpm)___ 596(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 893(@200wpm)___ 715(@250wpm)___ 596(@300wpm)
He studies my mother’s paintings on the walls, steps around my quaint kitchen, and runs his fingertip across the marble island that my dad built.
As I watch him take it all in, the sticky clothes start to irritate me and become uncomfortable. I remove my dress and let out a sigh of relief. Next, I pull my hair up into a high bun, then grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Wait, how are you getting home?” The realization that he doesn’t have a car hits me.
“Walking,” he says from behind me.
My eyes widen as I turn around. “In the dark? That’s way too far.”
A laugh escapes him, and it’s something I didn’t realize I missed until it echoes against the walls. “I lived in Vegas, Gemma. I’m not scared of walking at night here. Aside from the stray cats and crickets, the only terrifying thing in this town is how fast the gossip mills run.”
I snort at the truth in his words as I go to the living room and plop down on the sofa. “You could always stay.” I pat the throw pillow with an old Mustang on it. A gift my dad got me one Christmas.
“Where? The couch?” He arches a brow at how small it is, which causes me to laugh. His long legs would probably hang over the edge. Immediately, I’m brought back in time and remember what it felt like to be wrapped up in his arms and how it made me feel so tiny.
“Yeah, why not? It’s pretty damn comfy.” The room spins, and I blink hard until it stops.
When I look up at him, I notice he’s staring down at the ring on my finger. The light makes it sparkle and brings unnecessary attention to it. A lump forms in my throat, and the urge to change the subject hits me hard.
“Damn. Where are my manners?” I stand and go back to the kitchen. “Want something to drink? I have bottled water, Diet Coke, sweet tea...”
He chews his bottom lip as he shakes his head, then lowers his eyes down my body.
Tyler clears his throat. “Might want to put on some clothes?”
My body is on fire with embarrassment as I remember I’m only in my bra and panties.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. “Shit. I’m sorry, hold on…” Blushing, I turn and hurry to my bedroom.
I wasn’t thinking straight, and the wet dress and alcohol flowing through my veins didn’t help. I feel like the emperor when he realizes he’s walked around in his birthday suit and want to smack myself for being so dumb.
When I return in shorts and a T-shirt, he’s standing against the island. “Better?” I chuckle to ease the tension, then step in front of him. “Please don’t walk home.” The thought of him being out this late has me concerned. He might not get mugged, but too many stupid people are driving around this time of night, and that scares me.
Tyler takes me by surprise when he gently places his hands on my shoulders. It’s the first time he’s touched me, causing an internal freak-out of emotions. His hands are warm against my skin, and the scent of his cologne is more prevalent this close to him. “Gemma, don’t worry about me. I’ve dealt with plenty of shady people throughout the years. I promise I’ll be careful.”
I lick my lips and stare at his features—something I never thought I’d see again. “Earlier, you said I’d changed. But one thing that hasn’t is how much I worry about you.” I meet his eyes and feel as if I’m floating as our gaze locks. The electricity streaming between us nearly has me losing my breath.
“Don’t,” he says, then grabs a piece of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. My entire body shivers as his finger brushes across my cheek. “But you should drink more water and sleep off your impending hangover.” He smirks and places his soft lips on my forehead, then backs away.
I immediately notice the space he’s created between us, and I’m confused as I feel the loss of his warmth, smell, and closeness. What the hell am I doing?
“Okay,” I agree, though I really want him to stay and talk to me until the sun comes up like old times. There’s so much about his life I don’t know, and instead of asking Everleigh, I want him to tell me everything I missed. However, I doubt he ever will. He’s more private than I remember and has built a wall so high I’ll never be able to scale it. At times, his motions are almost robotic as if he’s forgotten how to be human.
“Do you want me to tell you when I get home?” he asks, rubbing a hand over his trimmed jawline.
“Yes, please,” I say without hesitation. “Do you need my number?”