Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
She’s right, dinner is delicious up here. The burger is some of the best beef I’ve had, and the onion rings aren’t too oily.
By the time we leave the restaurant and make it down to the house, we’re both damn tired, and it’s not even six in the evening yet.
“If it wasn’t so late, I’d take a nap,” Millie says with a yawn as I unlock the front door.
“We can still rest,” I reply. “Go take a hot shower and get cozy.”
“Not gonna argue,” she says and does exactly that.
While she’s busy in the shower, I do my best not to think about her naked and wet, and instead, I change into relaxing clothes of my own and then find a bottle of wine on the kitchen counter and open it, pouring her a glass.
I pour myself two fingers of tequila and remind myself to pick up some whiskey.
I don’t usually drink this much, but today was one of the most stressful days of my life.
When Millie pads out of the bathroom, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
She’s not in the too-big sweats tonight. No, my vixen is in little blue sleep shorts with a barely there yellow tank top and a zip-up hoodie open in the front.
She’s a walking wet dream.
“Oh, wine.” She holds her hand out for the glass. “Good call. Now what should we do?”
I should strip you out of those pitiful excuses for clothes and fuck you six ways to Sunday; that’s what we should do.
And she must see it in my eyes because she clears her throat and sips her wine.
“Holden?”
“Yes, Rosie?”
“You’re going to call me that whether I like it or not, aren’t you?”
“Probably.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes and pads over to the couch. “Let’s watch something stupid on TV.”
“Why does it have to be something stupid?”
“Because I’m brain dead. I can’t follow something serious tonight. But maybe we can watch something funny.”
“We can watch anything you want. But you’re going to have to share the couch because I’ll get a crick in my neck if I try to watch TV from that tiny-ass chair.”
“It’s a big couch.” She shrugs a shoulder and scoots over, and I sit right next to her, my thigh against hers. And I rest my arm over the back of the couch, around her shoulder. “Holden?”
“Yep?”
“You’re crowding me.”
“Yep. Choose something to watch, wife.”
She rolls her eyes, but her cheeks flush with pleasure as she picks up the remote and aims it at the TV. It doesn’t take her long to find a Sandra Bullock rom-com, and then she holds herself stiff for a while, as if she doesn’t want to relax against me.
So, I just tug her into my side, kiss her temple, and whisper into her ear, “Just relax, baby girl.”
After three seconds, she does. She curls into me, and we watch this silly movie, and the day rolls through my head.
She defended me. To her family. She stood in front of me, which really pissed me off, but she only did it because she wanted to protect me.
God, I love this woman.
CHAPTER NINE
MILLIE
Ifeel like I’m floating.
In fact, as I blink my eyes open, it occurs to me that I am floating.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Holden whispers before kissing my temple. He’s carrying me and lowers me to the bed. I’m on top of the covers, but I don’t care.
I’m so damn tired.
I feel his calloused fingers brush my hair off my cheek, and then he presses his lips to my forehead.
“This might be the best dream ever.”
Is that my voice? All thick and husky and maybe a little needy. Holden chuckles, but then I doze again.
Until I feel the mattress dip, and then there’s my favorite fluffy blanket—the extra big one—draped over me, and Holden is next to me, and I can’t help but curl into his warmth.
Strong arms pull me in, and now I know that I’m dreaming because there’s no other explanation for Holden being in bed with me.
But I have to admit, it’s really nice.
So, I sigh and lean into this sweet, comforting dream, where Holden holds me with his arms wrapped around me, and I nuzzle in, feeling more content than I have in a long time, and let sleep wash over me once more.
It’s still dark when I wake up and turn over to check the time. 4:45.
I stretch my arms over my head and then turn to push my face back into the pillow. When I smell Holden there, I pause.
Why does my pillow smell like Holden?
I think he carried me to bed. I remember that. Aside from the ride on a cloud, I don’t remember much of anything else.
I was physically and emotionally exhausted.
After one more stretch, I get up and pad into the bathroom, and once I’ve done my business, put my hair up, and washed my face, I pull on my usual work clothes of jeans and a Bitterroot Valley Coffee Co T-shirt, then brush on a touch of mascara and lip balm before heading to the kitchen.