Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“You sure?” he asks, taking a step toward me.
I want to hold my hands up to keep him from advancing, but I also want to reach out and pull him close and tell him to have his wicked way with me. I have to stop this. I have to learn to deal with this attraction, but now that this box has been opened, I don’t know how to close it.
Sterling isn’t one to hold back. If he wanted me, he’d tell me. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
“I can drive,” I counter.
“Why? We always ride together.”
Not always, but more often than not. I nod. “Yes, driver, you can pick me up,” I tease.
“Come here.” Before I can stop it, he has me in his arms, giving me one of his epic hugs. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
No. “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you for your help.”
“Anytime, Tink.” He relaxes his hold on me, and I take the opportunity to step out of his arms. “Lock up behind me.”
“I always do. Text me when you make it home.”
“Always do.” He winks.
I’m shocked when he reaches out and takes my hand in his, and starts walking toward the door. His lips press to my temple. “Lock up.” He pulls open the door and walks out. It feels like he doesn’t want to leave, and I don’t want him to leave, but it’s better if he does. Turning the lock, I make my way back to the kitchen to cover the cupcakes before switching out the lights and rushing down the hall, already feeling guilty for what I’m about to do while I’m thinking about my best friend.
A finger taps my shoulder, and I jump at least two feet in the air. I pull my earbuds out and turn to find Sterling standing behind me. His hands are shoved into his khaki shorts, and he’s grinning at me. “I knocked and called out for you. What are you listening to?”
My face flames. “A book.”
He cocks his head to the side. “What kind of book causes this?” He lifts his hand and gently traces my cheek with his index finger.
“Just a book.” Lies. All lies. I was in the middle of a really steamy scene in this one.
“Hmm.”
“Cupcakes!” I blurt. “I’ll get the cupcakes.”
Sterling chuckles and steps back. “Are you ready? Do you need help with anything?”
“No. Yes. I mean, no, I don’t need anything, and yes, I’m ready.” I turn back to the counter, where I was just finishing washing dishes when he scared the hell out of me. I leave everything as is. I can deal with it when I get home. Instead, I reach for the cupcake carrier at the same time that Sterling does.
With his hand over mine, he places the other on the small of my back and leans in close. “I got it, Tink.”
Damn. Why does he have to say it all sexy-like? Doesn’t he realize what that does to me? “Thanks,” I manage to say.
He smiles and offers me his hand. I stare at him for a few heartbeats before sliding my hand into his. We move through my house, and he stops next to the small table near the entryway where I keep my purse and keys. “You have everything?” he asks once I pick them both up.
“Yep.” My reply is overly chipper, but I can’t help it. I’m trying to hide my body's reaction to him. He leads us outside, once again stopping and waiting for me to lock the door.
One-handed.
He doesn’t let go of me as he leads me to his truck. “How’s this going to work?” I ask once we get to his truck, and he just stops and stares at the door.
“Do you mind opening the back door?” he asks, a lazy smile pulling at his lips.
“Or you could let go of my hand and do it yourself, goof.”
“Nah. I like my idea better.”
His words melt my heart. Does he not realize he’s making it impossible to remind my heart that he’s not ours? Shaking my head, I use my free hand and pull open the back door of his truck. He places the cupcake holder on the floorboard. After closing the door, he opens the passenger front door for me.
“Thanks, Tank.”
He waits until I climb inside before leaning in and squeezing my bare knee. He doesn’t utter a word, but he doesn’t need to. His eyes are talking for him. They’re speaking words that neither of us are willing to repeat. At least, I think that’s what they’re saying. I’m so confused with the battle between my heart and my head, I can’t be sure.
I want to be sure.
The drive to his parents’ place is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He leaves his hand palm up as his arm rests on the center console. Part of me thinks he’s waiting for me to make a move to show him that this is what I want, but all I can do is stare at said hand from the corner of my eye. When we pull into his parents’ driveway, I exhale in relief. We need his brothers and the rest of his family as a buffer between us.