Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
It made me wonder if Rett dabbled in photography. That also made me realize I didn’t know a lot about him. Only the basics.
The area right inside the door was open-concept, just like my cabin, but more polished and modern. The living room area had a built-in gas fireplace with a large screen TV mounted on the wall above it. Opposite that wall sat a large, comfortable-looking leather sectional couch. Right in front of that on the floor was a large circular dog bed.
Taking it all in, I trailed Rett into the next open area, which was a decent-sized kitchen. It was clean and neat. Anything left out on the counter seemed to have its place. No dirty dishes filled the sink. No empty glasses set out on the counter. No food was left out besides some bananas hanging from one of those holders. I thought that was one of those kitchen gadgets people bought but never used.
Apparently, I was wrong.
Rett opened the fridge and reached in to grab something. And as he did, I let my gaze wander the backside of him, pausing on his ass and how the thin cotton of his boxers pulled tight over his very firm, perfectly-shaped cheeks.
I ripped my eyes away because I shouldn’t be eyeing him up like he was a tempting treat.
When he turned after closing the fridge door, he had two bottles of Sea Dog Sunfish Ale in his hands. He twisted the top off of one and offered it to me. I stepped closer and plucked it from his fingers, checking out the label.
“Have you had Sea Dog before?” he asked.
“Once. I tried their blueberry beer.”
“Oh, that’s the best. Made from wild Maine blueberries. I have Rick order in cases of this brand so I can get it locally.”
“Rick?”
“He owns The Roost. Have you stopped in there yet?”
With a shake of my head, I answered, “No.”
“It’s a sleepy little bar.”
Just like the sleepy little town.
“Rick’s a good guy.”
I heard the unspoken “unlike you” loud and clear.
I tipped the bottle to my lips and the cold light ale slid down my tight throat. It tasted really good, smooth and refreshing. I might have to stop in at The Roost to pick up a couple of six packs for myself.
I wasn’t a big drinker but sometimes I liked a good beer. Sea Dog would be the perfect brew to sit out on the porch, kick up my feet and stare out over the lake while listening to the local wildlife.
I needed to say something, instead of only standing there like a brain-dead idiot. “How’s your head? Is it healed?”
He took a long swallow from his own bottle, set it on the counter next to the fridge, then stepped in front of me.
With neither of us blinking, we stared at each other for a few seconds, and just when I was getting antsy and was about to step back to give us some space, he turned to give me his back and slid his fingers into his hair to part it. I could still see the evidence of the injury.
Damn. “That left a mark,” I murmured.
“Luckily, it’s small. It’ll fade.”
The man was certainly optimistic about it. But then, he seemed optimistic about life in general.
When he turned back to face me, we once again stood boot tip to bare toe. I swore neither one of us breathed as we stared at each other, just inches apart.
“Why are you here?” he asked huskier than normal.
“I told you why.” I sucked down two more large mouthfuls of the ale. I was hoping it would douse the heat rising from my gut.
“When did you finish it?”
“Does it matter?”
He nodded.
Of course it did. He was trying to analyze my thought process and actions. “This morning.”
“And here you are at,” he twisted his head to look at the digital clock on the stove, “almost ten-thirty at night.”
“I…” I had no good excuse.
His head tipped to the side. “You…”
“I disturbed your evening,” I concluded.
Because I certainly wouldn’t admit I had been thinking about him until my skin was ready to split.
I wouldn’t tell him I had jerked off in my shower this morning, thinking about that kiss.
I wouldn’t tell him I had almost done it again tonight. I also wouldn’t tell him that was why I climbed into my Bronco and parked behind his bookstore before I could talk myself out of it.
No. I wouldn’t tell him any of that.
“I figured if I gave it to you tonight, you could get an early start on doing edits in the morning.”
He lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes, seeing right through me to the truth and not the lie I just spouted.
My fingers curled tighter around the now sweating bottle. To break his spell on me, I lifted the beer to my mouth and guzzled the remainder. Since I was standing close enough to reach the small kitchen table nearby, I set my empty bottle on it without shifting my feet even an inch.