Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Shit,” I murmur, pushing up onto my tippy toes and throwing my arms around his neck. “No, I’m sorry,” I tell him as a soft flurry of snow begins to dust the ground. “There you were doing this amazing, thoughtful thing for me, and I took off instead of having faith that you’d come through for me. I ruined our first Christmas together.”
He shakes his head. “I should have left a note in case you woke up. That’s on me. I made a bad call, but for the record, my coffee was outstanding. You would have loved it.”
I groan, and he laughs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “It’s barely even lunchtime,” he tells me. “This Christmas hasn’t been ruined yet. There’s still time to salvage the rest of our day. Besides, I plan on spending a million more years at your side, so we still have plenty of chances to fuck up Christmas, but today won’t be that day. You’re coming home with me.”
My brows furrow. “To your place?” I ask as it occurs to me that I actually have no idea where he lives, which street, or even which part of town.
He watches me far too carefully. “Why do you say that like you’re expecting me to chain you in my basement once I get you there?”
“I just . . . I don’t know. I suppose that when I thought of you over the years, I always pictured you the way you were when I left, like you were frozen in time. And back then, you were still living at your parents’ house. It’s hard to imagine you having this whole life that I’ve never known about.”
“You mean to tell me that this whole time you’ve been assuming I was still living at home in that small bedroom with my Megan Fox poster on the wall?”
I shrug. “I mean, no. I guess part of me assumed you might have eventually bought a home, but I could never picture what it would have looked like. I could only ever picture the home we always talked about building together, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen, so I was left only with what I already knew.”
A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “Come on. Get your ass in my truck. Apparently I have a lot to show you.”
My brows furrow, but he doesn’t give me another chance to question him before he leads me to his truck, his hand resting on my lower back. Then being the perfect gentleman, he opens the door and helps me in. “By the way,” he says, standing in the open door, my hand pausing on the seatbelt as I meet his blue-gray eyes. “Merry Christmas.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, and I lean into him, capturing his lips in mine in a swift, yet lingering kiss. “Merry Christmas, Nick,” I murmur, my lips gently moving against his.
Nick holds my stare for a moment longer, and while I can tell there’s something he needs to say, he pulls back and closes the door before making his way around. He gets in and starts the engine, the old truck rumbling to life. “It’s not going to break down in the middle of town, is it?” I tease as he hits the gas.
“Those are fightin’ words, baby,” he says, his eyes sparkling with silent laughter.
A wicked grin cuts across my face, and as Nick makes his way to the outskirts of town, I pay close attention to where he’s going. There’s not much out here. Larger rural properties with big homes, their neighbor sometimes miles away. “Where are we going?” I ask, watching as the beautifully landscaped properties pass us by.
“Patience never was one of your strong qualities, was it?”
I scoff. “And you have the nerve to accuse me of using fighting words.”
Nick laughs, and as he reaches across the center console and takes my hand, butterflies swarm through the pit of my stomach. “Only a few more minutes,” he says, taking pity on me. “We’re nearly there.”
Excitement brims in my chest, and my knee bounces with nervous anticipation right up until he starts to slow, pulling off toward a dirt road. He drives along it, passing through thick forest, and then suddenly the trees thin into a clearing, bringing us to a fancy iron gate with the name STONE worked into the intricate design. “Holy fuck,” I grunt, gaping at the massive gate.
“Not bad, huh?” Nick says with pride.
He creeps toward the gate, and it’s then I realize that the dirt road has turned into a pristine one that looks as though it was handcrafted by the angels of heaven. Nick drives up to a keypad and enters a code, and as the gates start to swing open, I’m met with acres of what I can only assume is beautifully landscaped property covered in a thick layer of snow. The driveway is clear though, and I can only assume that Nick either spends every spare minute of his life shoveling it or that he dropped a bomb on underground heating.