Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Pretty sure I’m not in a ‘no pajamas’ state,” she said, gesturing at her face. “Is this as bad as it feels?”
“I’m most worried about your nose,” I admitted. “But it’s good that it stopped bleeding. How hard did you hit your head?” I asked, raising my hand to gently brush my fingers over her bruised temple.
“It wasn’t too hard. I had some… cushioning,” she said, gesturing toward her chest.
“Well, it’s nice that they have another purpose other than just looking really fucking great.” I got a little laugh at that. “Are you nauseated? Dizzy? Double vision? Anything like that?”
“I have a headache. And maybe I’m a little lightheaded. But I haven’t eaten anything. Maybe it’s nothing to do with my head.”
“Maybe. But we’re gonna keep an eye on that just in case. And we can definitely rule out hunger as soon as we get back to my place. The pasta is probably not good, but I have some fresh bread to hold you over until we can order something in. Maybe some ice cream,” I said, running my hand over her bruised throat.
“Ice cream sounds good,” she agreed. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”
Yet.
I didn’t want to freak her out, but getting choked out hurt afterward, making it feel like she was swallowing glass.
She’d learn that soon enough.
One thing at a time.
“Okay, good,” I said. “You ready to get going?”
“Yes. I know it’s kind of crazy, you know, given all of this,” she said, waving at herself again.
“But?” I asked, backing out of the parking spot.
“But I’m really curious to see your house.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dasha
The last thing I wanted to do around a guy who I was crazy attracted to was ugly snot cry on their fancy suit. Or, you know, bleed all over him.
But, well, he was too good of a guy to just let me sit there and cry by myself.
The problem was I’d been too upset to really enjoy being held. Though, from the sound of things, Santo wanted me to stay the night. So maybe there would be time for some more snuggling.
Santo turned off into a part of Navesink Bank I hadn’t even visited before. As the cute little starter homes morphed into elegant mini-mansions, I understood why none of my business ever brought me over that way.
Santo’s house was on a street full of many different house styles—from an old, well-maintained Queen Anne on the corner to several Colonials and Georgians.
I wasn’t exactly sure what style Santo’s house was, but it was a two-story white stone structure with an overhanging front porch, black-framed windows, a black roof, and a ton of lovely land and hardscape out front.
Knowing what I knew about the absurd house prices in town, I had to imagine that this place set Santo back around a million.
“Wow,” I said as he pulled up the stone driveway. “Is this a new build?”
“New? No. But it was completely gutted and redone before I bought it. I think they did a lot to the outside too.”
“If it’s not too invasive to ask, why such a big house?”
“One day, I plan to have a wife and a bunch of kids in it. What?” he asked, making me realize I was staring at him.
“It’s refreshing to hear a guy talk about wanting those things with so much certainty.”
“Definitely one day. But tonight, I want to get you inside and get you cleaned up and cuddled on the couch with something cool to drink.”
I’d told him before that my throat wasn’t too bad, but with each passing moment, it seemed to hurt more and more to swallow. Kind of like when you have strep throat, where it gets more and more raw feeling, making you not want to eat. Or even swallow your own saliva.
Santo was out of the car and at my door before I could even get myself unbuckled. His hand went to the small of my back as he led me up the winding front path of his house, stopping us for just a second outside of a curved black wood front door so he could slip the key into the lock.
I didn’t expect much decor as we moved inside, but Santo hadn’t been lying when he said he’d been working on the house.
The foyer was dominated by a staircase, a black chandelier, and gleaming dark wood floors that stretched on toward the back of the house.
To the right of the front door was the living room that was dominated by a massive wooden table with turned legs and cushioned chairs.
No, he didn’t have anything on the table, a sideboard, cabinets, window treatments, or a carpet. But, hey, it was better than an empty room.
Besides, the table and the rounded picture window were always going to be the focal point of the room.
To the left of the front door was the living room that featured, of course, the green velvet couch we’d picked out. It faced a white marble and wood fireplace with a framed TV over it.