Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Duly noted. Can I tell you something? Maybe it will sound cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, maybe it won’t.”
“I’m all ears. Please talk to me for the entirety until the snowstorm blows over.” I hold back telling her the lines could go down soon. Maybe I’ll wait to share that little nugget of information until right before we get off the phone.
“I’ve never believed in love at first sight, not even lust, but the minute Clay walked up to me, I felt…” I stumble for the right words to capture the feeling I’m trying to explain. “I felt alive. He gave me his full attention, wiped my tears away, which in itself sent a spark like no other through my body. He made sure I’m safe, and most of all, I feel protected. Kind of like when we were little, and you made sure everything was alright.” Butterflies swirl around in my stomach, and a smile is plastered clear across my face.
“Alright, can’t say I’ve ever experienced this before, but I can understand romance and the falling part.” Lennie falls in love with fictional characters on a daily basis. She reads more than anyone I’ve ever met, probably a way to escape the reality of the hell she’s been through in her past relationship.
“Thank you.” I let out a yawn, unable to hold back how tired I am any longer.
“You’re welcome. Keep in touch. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Oh, and Clay mentioned we may lose the telephone lines, but he’s got a backup generator. I’m sure I can text you from my laptop once he’s got Cindy secure for the time being. Between the insurance on the van and my phone, it’s going to cost a whack. I need to see about canceling my reservations in Jackson Hole, too.” The likelihood of me getting a full refund is low, even with insurance. It’s Christmas, and canceling last minute means they probably can’t find someone else to take over my stay.
“I’m going to need to eat a pile of antacids. Get some sleep, and I’ll try not to worry too much.” We say our goodbyes. I’m well aware that I’m about to climb into Clay’s bed. I’ll be wrapped up in his scent and his belongings. The one thing I can’t process is where he’ll be sleeping. Am I kicking him out of his bed? He’s already done so much for me that I can’t fathom having Clay give up his bedroom, too.
I straighten the phone back to its normal resting place. While I talked to my sister, the pacing began, and with it came the phone being moved every which way. I guess I’m lucky it didn’t fall to the ground or the cord didn’t get pulled out of the wall.
I’m struggling to figure out what to do next when I get a whiff of myself. I didn’t get a chance to shower tonight, not with Deputy Ding-Dong moving me away from a site that had bathrooms. Add in the wreck and my adrenaline skyrocketing only to just now start plummeting, and well, I’m a bit of a freaking mess. I grab my bag and start making my way to one of the two doors. One will surely lead to a bathroom.
Door number one isn’t the correct way to a hot shower; it leads to Clay’s closet. Boy, am I enraptured. Not because of the look of it; the area could use some cleaning and organizing. There are clothes hanging, some haphazardly, shirts mixed with jeans, blazers that are on metal hangers. I simply could not live in this kind of disarray, but I’d hazard a guess this is normal for single men. I take a deep breath. Leather, cedar, and undercurrents of bonfire on a cold winter night. A girl could get lost in Clay’s scent alone. As much as I want to linger, I don’t. It’s time to move this along instead of doing what I’d really like to. You know, like snatching a shirt and wearing it instead of the pajamas I packed. Those intrusive thoughts really are something else. I back away, close the door, and head to the next one.
A twist of my hand, and the door opens. Clay’s scent carries in here just as heavily as his closet. I abandon so much as thinking about using my bodywash. I’ll use whatever he has, and I’m sure he’ll think nothing of it. I strip out of my clothes, figure out which way the knobs work to turn the water to singe-your-body hot, and then root around for a towel. I do a little bit of snooping. It can’t be helped. I’m what Lennon likes to call a Nosey Rosy. Holding back after a quick peek is not easy, but I do it.
I step inside and go about my tasks, using Clay’s bodywash, my facewash, and call it a night. As much as I’d love to stand under the hot spray, using all his hot water after he’s been out saving my rig from further destruction or someone else hurting themselves if they careen into it is not an option.