Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
His words only made me cry harder. He was what I had imagined as my perfect man. He fit all the categories. The two weeks we had spent together were the happiest of my life. Sure, he was in the Mafia, and that had not been on my list, but that was the only thing.
His lips brushed against my temple, and goose bumps covered my skin. I had to get control over myself. He ran a hand over my back and stopped as it touched bare skin. I sniffled as the crying eased. Something else was taking its place. The need to be close to him in another way made me tremble.
Saxon’s hands fell away, and he stepped back, leaving me there cold again. “I, uh, have a meeting I need to get to. We need to leave at seven. I …” He glanced at the door. “I gotta go.”
I watched as he took long strides to the door, wrapping my arms around my waist. He left without a backward glance, and I sank down onto the sofa, pulling my legs underneath me.
“Yeah, Saxon, I am alone,” I whispered to no one.
When Saxon had returned to the house to get ready for the party, I had been in my bathroom. The awkwardness didn’t begin until I stepped out of the bedroom and he turned to look at me from where he was standing, watching the television. His arms were crossed over his chest. He was dressed in a light-blue button-down shirt, a pair of faded jeans, and a cleaner pair of cowboy boots. He didn’t say anything after looking at me. He turned off the television, then put the remote down on the coffee table.
I hadn’t been sure if my blue jean miniskirt and the red sweater that bared both my shoulders was appropriate, but seeing that he was wearing jeans, I felt relieved. I wanted to ask if what I had on was okay, but I worried that he’d think I was asking for a compliment.
“Ready?” he asked me, flashing a smile my way before heading for the door.
“Not really,” I replied, following him.
He looked back at me. “It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
I wanted to trust him, but with these people, I couldn’t be so sure. He held the door open for me, and I walked outside ahead of him. The cool night air hit me, and I shivered.
“Wait a minute,” Saxon said, turning and walking back inside.
I stood there, wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm.
When he reappeared, he was holding a brown leather jacket. “Here,” he said to me, holding it open. “Put this on.”
“What about you?” I asked.
He smirked. “I’m a man. I can handle the fifties. Put it on.”
I slid one arm in as he held it, then the other. He let go and walked around me toward his truck. The scent of leather and pine wrapped around me, reminding me of how I’d loved this smell when Saxon used to hold me and kiss me.
I made my way to the truck and realized he’d walked to my side and was opening the door. He was being nice. Could I handle that? Would my heart be able to deal with this?
Trying to make light of the situation, I smiled up at him. “You bring me a coat and open my car door. Not sure what to think of this.”
His gaze dropped to my shoes, then back up at me. “I figured with those heels, you’d need help getting in. I don’t need you falling. You’re carrying my baby.”
A smirk touched his lips, and I felt it tingle every nerve in my body.
I placed my hand in his, and he helped me up into the truck. Sitting back, I realized I wasn’t nervous about the party so much anymore. He’d distracted me. Had that been his plan?
Shifting in my seat, I crossed my legs as he sat down in the driver’s side. I didn’t miss the way his eyes went to my legs before quickly looking away. Smiling to myself, I decided these were my new favorite shoes.
“I’ve only been to one Christmas party. It was at the yoga studio where I work,” I told him.
“They like their Christmas parties here. This one, then the one Mom has here, and Garrett will have one on Christmas Eve.”
“That must be nice to have grown up with all the decorations and parties.”
He shrugged. “When I was younger, I guess. It gets annoying now.”
“How can it be annoying? Everything at your parents’ house was magical—well, the decorations. Your mom hates me, and there is nothing magical about it.”
He cut his eyes at me. “How did you celebrate Christmas, growing up?”
I sighed and shook my head. “We didn’t.”
He turned his head to look at me fully this time. “Are you Jewish?”