Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Merrick owns my heart. He just doesn’t know it.
“Are you really making me do this?” Merrick whines, making me laugh.
“Listen, mister. You said you needed stuff for your house. You have blinds and no curtains. You have, what, five bath towels? Your plates don’t match and you were complaining that your pan was scratched to hell, and the eggs stuck this morning. This is what you wanted. You said you needed help getting everything you needed for your house. Oh, and you need furniture for the spare bedrooms.”
He glances over at me from the driver's seat before his eyes dart back to the road. “I hate shopping. I thought I could give you my card or some cash and you could buy whatever I need, or hell, order it online. Even better. No need to go shopping at all.”
“The wedding is next weekend and we still have not done this. You have a beautiful home, Merrick. It’s time to buy at least the essentials.” I’m not backing down on this. This was my part of the deal, and I plan to hold up my end of the bargain.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Let it be noted that I’m not going to have fun today.”
“What?” I gasp, placing my hand over my heart. “Are you saying you won’t have fun spending the day with me?” I feign offense to his words. I know it’s not me. The man really does hate shopping.
He pulls into a parking spot at our first stop and turns to face me. “No, baby, that’s not what I’m saying. You know I love spending time with you. It’s shopping,” he groans, and I can’t help but laugh. He sounds like a teenager not getting his way.
“Suck it up, buttercup. We’re doing this. The more you cooperate, the faster we’re out of here, and on to the next store, and then we get to go home. Back to your home,” I add, because calling his place home causes pain to lance my heart. It feels like it could be home to me.
“You owe me,” he says, pointing his index finger at me, before climbing out of the truck. I don’t wait for him like I know he wants me to. Instead, I push open the door and climb down on my own. “Brat,” he teases, pulling me into his chest and kissing my temple.
“This is what you asked for,” I remind him.
“Baby, you’ve given me so much more than I ever could have imagined.”
His words have emotions building in my throat. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him he’s my everything, but he’s never hinted at this extending to after my sister’s wedding. I may have found my confidence in these past few months, but I can’t seem to find it within me to open up my heart, to expose it for him to crush if he says this has been fun, but it’s run its course. No, I’m sticking to the plan.
I have a week until I have to walk away from the man who owns me, heart and soul.
“Now what?” Merrick asks. We just finished carrying in all of today’s purchases. His living room floor is covered with bags.
“Now, we put it all away.”
“I can hire someone for that, right?” he asks.
“No. We’re going to do it. It won’t take us long.”
“I needed a lot of shit.”
“It’s not shit.” I laugh. “These are all the things you need to live here,” I remind him. Sure, he could have gone without curtains, but hanging them will make this feel like home to him. Not just four walls that contain his things.
“I’ve been living here just fine without all this.”
“This shit, as you like to call it, makes this place a home.”
“We’re doing just fine,” he says, tugging me into his lap. “I’m glad it’s over, and you’re right. It needed to be done. Thank you for putting up with me today. This never would have happened without you. My sisters-in-law would have eventually taken matters into their own hands once they saw everything I still needed. It was more fun doing it with you.”
His words hit me in my feels. I had so much fun with him today and every day that we spend together. I want to tell him this could be our life, our future, but I keep those words locked up tight. Instead, I say, “Come on. Let’s get this put away, and then I’ll make you some dinner.”
“Careful, Court, I’ll be locking the doors and never letting you leave.” He winks and kisses my cheek, before placing me back on the couch next to him. Standing, he grabs one of the bags to start unpacking.
I ignore the twisting in my belly at his words. I wonder what he would have said if I told him I was ready for him to lock the door and throw away the key. Shaking out of my thoughts, I stand and pick up a bag and we both get busy.