Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 103537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Crisis was taking this seriously, so I tried to ignore what my body was doing and pressed the pedal like he said.
“Now, turn the key. But don’t let go of the clutch until it starts.”
I looked around for the key and saw it in the ignition to the right of the steering wheel. The mower started easily and I was giddy as it vibrated underneath me.
“The gears are a little tricky for timing,” he explained. His chest rubbed against me again as he showed me the three gears. “The brake is on the other side, but if you stop completely, you need to press the clutch at the same time or it will stall.”
Too much information, but I learned to shoot a gun from merely watching Olaf with his, for Christ’s sake. This couldn’t be too hard. Clutch. Gear. Gas. That was all I had to remember.
“Okay, let’s go, sweetness.” His hands rested lightly on my shoulders and, normally, I hated hands on my shoulders. But Crisis’ hands were steady and calming—reassuring. I pressed the clutch, and jammed the gear into first. “Not so rough. It should slide right in.”
Oh, damn. I pictured him above me, his cock sliding in and there was nothing vile about it. I abruptly let go of the clutch and the mower violently jerked.
“Fuck,” Crisis shouted.
I turned around to see Crisis on his butt on the grass behind the mower, his hand to his cheek. I bit my lip to stop from laughing, but a giggle and smile did escape as I looked at the cocky rock star on his ass looking a little dazed.
I realized that the mower was getting further away from him as it continued to creep forward.
“Crisis.” I cranked on the steering wheel with both hands, turning it as far as it would go as it puttered straight for the stable wall. It was a slow crawl but, slow or not, it would still crash into a wall. I looked down at the two pedals and the gear. Crap, I forgot what he said about stopping.
“Crisis? How do I stop it?” There was a loud grinding sound as the mower scrapped the side of the barn.
He appeared beside the mower and my eyes widened when I saw the big red mark on his cheekbone. “Knee to the face when I went over backwards. Anyone asks, I’m telling them you punched me,” he said. I bit my lip smiling. He kept pace with the mower and grinned. “You sure know how to knock a guy off his feet.”
I rolled my eyes and he laughed. He hopped up onto the mower and brushed against me as he slid in behind to perch up on the backrest again. “Okay, let’s get driving this piece of junk.”
His finger brushed back my hair from my neck and goose bumps played havoc along my skin. I wanted to turn around and look at him to see if he noticed, but I was afraid of him seeing what was raging through me.
“Second gear it, baby.”
The muscles in my face ached by the time I drove the lawn mower back to the shed an hour later. And it was from smiling. It may have been just a lawn mower, but it was a step toward what I was searching for—control over my own life. A sense of normality. And freedom. I ran my finger over the words scorched into my wrist and I don’t know if he noticed what I was doing, but he gently took my hand in his.
“You’ll get there.”
I was uncertain what he meant by that, if it had deeper meaning than just a reference to learning to drive. But it didn’t matter; it was the right thing to say, and even better was that he didn’t say anything more.
We walked out of the shed, and Crisis let my hand go and kissed the top of my head. “In a couple days, we can move up to the tractor.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to start with a car?”
Crisis chuckled and threw his arm around my shoulders. “Fuck yeah.”
I scrunched up my nose and subtly inched out of the embrace. I liked his arm around me and I was fast realizing that I liked a lot of things about Crisis. And becoming involved with a rock star who was constantly on social media was a hard limit. “Then why are we doing this?”
His steps were long compared to mine and I took two to his one even though he was walking slowly. I glanced up at him just as the warm breeze shifted across us and lifted a curl of his hair and caused it to dance across his face for a second. It was cute when he frowned and annoyingly pushed it behind his ear where it fell forward again.
“I’m sure Ream will let me use his car if you don’t want me driving yours.”
I hated when he procured that little smirk because there was always a reason behind it that revolved around his ability to make my heart pitter-patter and the temperature in my body go up two degrees.
“Do you have to have a reason to do everything? It’s fun.”
I frowned. “So you’re teaching me to drive on a lawnmower because it’s fun?”
“Sure.” He shrugged then jerked his head toward the car pulling into the driveway. “Ream’s back.”
I looked up at the house and saw the car pulling in. I was excited to see Ream again, but a little uneasy too. The triggers had escalated and I didn’t want Ream to witness them. Running helped, maybe because I exhausted my body until it had no energy left to freak out.
“Aren’t you nervous about what he’ll say? He was pissed that you and Kite hadn’t moved out.”
He laughed and nudged my shoulder with his own. “Nah. Ream can throw a punch, but he’s my brother. Not much will ruin what we have.” His hand lightly touched the small of my back as he slowed his step. “When he first came to live with us, he’d wake up in the night screaming your name.”