Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“I did not break his heart,” Blake insisted, slowing to stop behind a Mercedes SUV at a red light.
“Hmm. Well, I’ve been observing his relationship with his boyfriend, Simon, and I’ve concluded that their chances for long-term success are exceedingly high. They’re complete opposites, but they’re friends. The best of friends. My odds of finding the same, based on taste, opportunity, and miscellaneous factors I won’t bore you with now—are thirty-three point three percent. Not great. I may never have a life partner, and I’ve decided I’m okay with that. My mother is single and she’s perfectly happy. I don’t need a man to complete me, but I do like sex and—what’s so funny?”
“You.” Blake snorted merrily as he made a right on Walnut Street. “Do you plan out every facet of life?”
“Not every facet. Some variables can’t be controlled.”
“Exactly. Too much planning isn’t good for you. College, jobs…sure, but not people. What you wanted in a partner at eighteen might not be the same when you’re older.” He veered into the lot and parked next to a white suburban. “And you never know who you’ll meet along the way. It’s like me and you and the sex app.”
“Something like that,” I huffed.
“It’s true. If we hadn’t both been extremely horny that night, we wouldn’t be at a Home Depot on a field trip now.” He pulled the key from the ignition with a flourish. “Time to party. This won’t take long. We’ll swing by the market on the way back to my place and get something to eat.”
I narrowed my gaze suspiciously as I unbuckled the seat belt. “You’re prolonging our excursion.”
Blake cocked his head. “We have to eat. I’m hungry, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I didn’t think you’d want to spend all day with me.” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip and adjusted my glasses. “Don’t you have other plans?”
“Nope. You’re it. C’mon.” He opened his door and hopped out.
I wasn’t sure why, but the prospect of spending an entire day with Blake made me uneasy. An hour watching a game I didn’t understand—not a problem. But multiple side excursions with a handsome hunk who was completely off-limits would be a true test.
I sighed heavily and trekked after him, hoping I was up for the challenge.
Stepping into a gigantic warehouse filled with home improvement implements was rather daunting. It was loud, echoey, crowded, and very…orange. Orange carts, orange signage, orange vests on the employees. In case I hadn’t mentioned it earlier, I didn’t like the color orange at all. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and stuck close to Blake.
Thankfully, he knew where he was going. He led me to an aisle stacked high with flat boxes that contained smaller versions of the bookcase my mom wanted to build.
“I thought you were going to show me how to do something simple…like build a birdhouse.”
“We can do that too. But I moved into my apartment two months ago, and I kinda need a bookcase. When you mentioned helping your mom, I took it as a sign it was time to jump on a couple of the projects I’d been putting off. I need two for my bedroom. I’ll build one, you can build the other. Sound good?”
“If you don’t mind mine looking like a Picasso, sure,” I replied.
“You’ll be fine. I’ll coach you through it.”
He winked before turning to pull a box from the shelf. And me…I stood there, my cock growing heavy because of—what? A facial tic. That was slightly insane. Crazier still that I could get hard while surrounded by so much orange. Ugh, I needed to hurry this trip along.
I cleared my throat and hooked my thumb behind me. “I’ll go look for tools. I’ll call your cell if I get lost.”
“Hold up. I have tools at home. We won’t need much more than an electric screwdriver and a level anyway.”
“But I’ll need my own to help my mom.” I headed down the aisle.
“You can borrow mine,” Blake called out as he pulled a second box from the shelf.
I wandered back to his side with my crossed arms, studying the large box. “Shall I get a cart?”
“No, I got this.” He held the box up and nudged my elbow. “Unless you want to carry one?”
I shook my head adamantly. “I’m weak. I’ll drop it or injure myself or a poor, unsuspecting bystander.”
“I believe in you, Ash,” Blake cajoled.
“Well, you shouldn’t. My arms are spaghetti noodles, my abs are pudding.”
“No worries, I got this.” He bent to pick up both boxes, but carrying two at once was unwieldy. He stopped to hike them on his knee and secure his fingers at the corners. “Hey, can you push this one up a bit, please?”
“Like this?”
I stepped closer and followed his instructions, pressing my hand to his as if it might help somehow.