Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Turned out it wasn’t a single building but dozens in a long line, interconnected so that from the inside it felt like one giant store. And it was enormous, absurdly so. Ren went quiet and tense, and Fitz slung an arm around her shoulders, playfully warning her, “Stick with me, Sunshine, this place might be more dangerous than the Screaming Eagle.” But at the feel of her small frame pressed into his side, he no longer cared that he’d left his jacket in the car; warmth spread up his fingertips and down into his chest.
They wandered, browsing the merchandise, pointing to silly hats and T-shirts they joked about getting, and after about five minutes he realized he still had her pinned comfortably to his side.
Pathetic, he chided himself. Your resolve from the parking lot lasted barely two minutes.
Unease spread in his chest at how easy and comfortable this was all starting to feel. Instinct was a kick to his gut: Don’t get too comfortable. That’s when things fall apart.
When she reached up to touch his hand on her shoulder, drawing his attention to a T-shirt that read FARM GIRLS HAVE GREAT CALVES, and her hand lingered on his, Fitz abruptly dropped his arm. Ren startled, taking a step away from him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“Meet me in the café,” he said, rolling past this before realizing how harsh it had sounded. With a weak smile, he pointed to the café sign. “I’m going to use the restroom.”
At the sink, Fitz stared at his reflection. A tremble began in his chest and worked its way up his throat until he jabbed a finger under the collar of his shirt, pulling it away as if it was keeping him from drawing in enough air. When was the last time he’d looked at himself in the mirror? The last two or three days he’d been standing beside Ren at the bathroom sink, looking only at her.
He liked her. Too much, in fact. And she liked him, too. He knew she did. But God, this would be so much easier if she didn’t.
He had an interview for an internship in a matter of days and, beyond that, a clear sight to his endgame. Internship near Mary, law school, takedown of Fitzsimmons Development. Revenge wasn’t imminent, but it was out there, hovering patiently in the future. Truly the last thing he should be doing was flirting with a woman who was so naive and only knew how to take things sincerely, talking with a woman who could get all his secrets to pour out of him like water from a pitcher, falling for a woman who would put her unscarred heart in his broken hands.
“You’re not her boyfriend,” he said to the man in the mirror. His jaw tensed, and the worst truths slipped out unimpeded. “She’s too naive to know how to handle herself. She’s work you don’t have time for.” Fitz stared at his own reflection, expression hardening. “And more importantly, she’s way too good for you, so don’t even bother.”
When he found Ren a few minutes later, she’d already ordered food for them both and glanced up as he approached, smiling. “I hope you like sandwiches.”
“Who the hell doesn’t like sandwiches?” He sat across from her and, as casually as possible, tried to slide the bag across the table.
Ren stared at it and then up at him. “What’s this?”
“Just something I got you.” A preemptive apology, he thought.
“A gift from the men’s room?” she asked, grinning. “Is it a photo from the wall?”
“And she acts surprised when I make a dirty joke.”
She giggled, reaching for the bag. “You didn’t have to get me something. You’ve already done so much.”
“It’s not that big a deal.” Fitz reached up, rubbing his neck, hating the way his ears grew hot. When Ren pulled out the book, she let out a tiny, delighted squeak.
“My Adventure Journal?” she read.
He focused on unwrapping his sandwich. “There are maps and stuff inside,” he said, waving it off. “I figured you could mark off all the places you’ve been to on the trip…and in the future.”
She opened to the first page, where there was a map of the United States, and flipped through to see individual states with monuments, parks, and various famous roads. Fitz watched her flip to the back, to South Dakota, where she drew a finger around Mount Rushmore and the little checkbox next to it.
Emotion pooled inexplicably in his chest. “There’s a pen in the bag, too. So you can…” He gestured awkwardly. “For checking things off.”
Ren dug back into the bag and pulled out the green-and-yellow Wall Drug souvenir pen, placing a careful check mark next to the monument. “This is so sweet of you.”
“It’s not sweet,” he was quick to clarify. “It’s just something to keep you busy so you’ll stop with the dying bird calls.”