Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Well, you could say Trace was the reason. Things happened that shouldn’t have, and while I was ashamed, remorseful, and everything in between, a lot of it I deserved.” Even if what Wes was doing was ten times worse, no way am I getting into that with my mother, or Trace for that matter. It’s one thing to be knowledgeable, it’s another to hear it told to you about your own flesh and blood. The wandering eyes weren’t all it was. Texting girls, setting up dates to meet with them when I was studying, hooking up with others at parties. I got out while the getting was good. Still, I carried guilt for a very long time, and sometimes I still do.
“Honey, you were nineteen. Of course, there are things you did back then. You wouldn’t do them now.” Mom waves a hand like it’s no big deal.
“Anyways, Dad did a lot of the reconnecting for us in a way. Call him Mr. Matchmaker. The number he got from Daniel was no other than Blue Valley Contractors, owned and operated by Trace Gaines. That’s not all. From what my neighbors Doris and Janey mentioned, he was seen around the area before I knew he lived a measly ten minutes away from here.” I’ve yet to bring up the subject with him, waiting for the perfect opportunity.
“Well, talk about a Hallmark moment, and do not tell your father he’s the reason you two are together. He’d never let us live it down,” Mom says as the guys reappear. The old cabinets are gone. The stove is now moved off to the side, meaning my air fryer, microwave, and crockpot are about to get used a whole lot. The fridge thankfully can still be used and is staying where it’s plugged in.
“Never live what down?” Dad asks as he walks in with Trace behind him. I stutter with my words. How the hell am I going to get out of this jam?
“How you were right about Josie buying a fixer upper.” Mom stands up from her seat on the couch. “And since you helped Trace, have eaten the food we brought, had a beer while doing so, it’s time for us to head home.”
“Yep, I knew it. Alright, let me go wash my hands while you two say your goodbyes eighteen times,” Dad says.
“Okay, now who’s being the dramatic one?” I arch my eyebrows. Trace is off to the side, a grin gracing his face while he watches our antics. He really is a great guy, putting up with my family on a Sunday, with Dad helping him when he and I both know it would have been easier for him to do it on his own.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” Dad leaves on that note and heads to the half-bathroom slash new coffee bar area.
“Give me a hug. I’m going to prove him wrong once and for all.” Mom pulls the keys out of her purse, using her pointer finger to whip it around in a circular motion.
“Oh, this is new. Love you, Mom.” I hug her.
“Love you, too. Trace, it was lovely to meet you,” she says over my shoulder, I’m sure winking at him while doing so, putting a whole different plan in motion. This one for me to shit or get off the pot. “I’m off. Time to prove your father wrong. Talk to you tomorrow morning.” Mom takes off out the door while Trace and I laugh in her wake. Dad is going to be shocked when he comes out. In the meantime, my feet move me toward Trace, pinky finger sliding along his hand. He takes it one step further and laces our fingers, locking them with his for the barest of moments. This feels right because it is right.
21
TRACE
“Are you sure you can’t stay again?” Josie asks as she walks me out to my truck. My arm is wrapped around her shoulder, one of her hands on my stomach, the other around my waist. I’ve stayed longer than I should have. Last night was unexpected. Fucking worth it. The way she asks, a lingering hunger in her tone, has me wanting to say screw work for either of us. Getting wrapped up in one another is a better idea.
“I would, but I’ve got this pain-in-the-ass client. She needs kitchen cabinets, hates using her half bath to make coffee, and needs countertops in order to prepare her meals.” I tip my head down; hers is turned upwards. Leaving her is going to be harder than I expected. If it weren’t for the mountain of work we both have to do, I’d persuade her to come home with me tonight. She could set up shop in the garage. Too bad I know myself well enough. We wouldn’t get shit done, and the cabinets I am working on for her, well, we’d be using them for a completely different idea. One where she’s on top, legs spread over my shoulders, my face buried between her thighs, a repeat performance of last night, when I made her come before I slid my dick inside her tight, wet heat.