Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
More than you even know.
“Good. Now, let’s get you back to work,” Cotton says, spitting as he heads for his truck. “And if you tell anyone I said any of this shit, I’ll call you a liar.”
I look at Moe and chuckle.
You’re not a liar at all, Cotton. Not even a little bit.
Chapter Ten
Laina
I dance across the kitchen as the oven buzzes. The house is filled with the scent of garlic and pasta sauce—with a kiss of burnt cake because I am not a baker. But even a cake shaved into an inch of its life to rid it of the crispy pieces can’t break my spirits.
Not today. Not when I’ve had one of my life's most relaxing, amazingly boring, wonderfully mind-numbing days.
I slip on a mitt and remove the garlic bread from the oven.
The early evening sun warms the room without the stove's heat. Tall blades of grass sway in the breeze on the other side of the fence that separates Luke’s yard from the pasture. Tall flowers provide pops of color along the fencerow, making the view resemble a painting.
In all my travels worldwide, including my own homes that I chose and designed, I’ve never been to a place quite like this. There’s nothing fancy here. Some of it isn’t even modern. The cabinets are from the eighties at best, and every tap in the house leaks. But instead of taking away from the property, it all somehow adds to it. It works together to create a place where nothing really matters except being. Breathing. Living.
And dammit if it’s not glorious.
I check on the sauce I poured from a jar, hoping the spices I added to it actually enhance the flavor and don’t take away from it. I glance at the cake—or ruin it.
“Hey.”
I shriek and jump back, hitting the stove with my hip. Luke grabs me before my arm lands in the simmering sauce, and we have a real mess to clean up.
“Dammit,” I say, smacking Luke on the chest. “You just scared the shit out of me.”
“I can tell.” He grins. “What were you thinking about? Didn’t you hear me pull up or come in?”
I drag my hand down his chest, relishing the contact as long as possible. “I was focusing.”
“On what?”
“On making you dinner.”
“I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”
“You haven’t seen me in a long time. I can do lots of things that you don’t know about.”
Our gazes collide as soon as the words come out of my mouth. The corner of Luke’s mouth tugs toward the ceiling.
“I may have you prove that,” he says before walking away.
I heave a breath. “Don’t look at the cake. It’s not a good example of my talents.”
He examines my handiwork with a smirk. “I’d fucking hope not. What happened to this thing?”
“Has anyone ever told you it’s not smart to get lippy with the cook? I could poison you, and you’d never know it.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ll take my chances.”
“You like living on the wild side, huh?”
Luke just laughs.
I turn off the stove and give the pasta a final swish. “How was work? And why don’t you smell like shit?”
“I came in and went straight to the shower.”
“No, you did not. I would’ve heard you.”
“Well, I heard your acapella rendition of ‘Roadhouse Blues.’” He shrugs. “If I was going to make something up, that’s not the song I would’ve led with as my first guess.”
Shit. Maybe he was here, and I didn’t hear him.
“What did you do today?” he asks, taking two glasses from the cupboard. “Anything fun? Do I have any privacy left?”
“Not a thing.” I giggle. “I went through every drawer, closet, and corner of this place. I know everything about you.”
“Good.”
I take out two plates. “Good?”
“Yeah. Now you can reply in kind over dinner.”
His smile warms my heart.
We move silently around the kitchen, handing each other plates and silverware without missing a beat. We then fill our plates, grab our drinks, and sit at the table by the door.
“There were three deer outside today,” I say, pointing at the fencerow. “They stood there forever like they weren’t scared at all.”
“I don’t let anyone hunt out here, so we see a lot of them.”
I grin. “I love that you protect the wildlife. That’s such a green flag.”
He laughs. “A green flag, huh?”
“Yeah. If you have an online dating profile, you should put that in your bio.” I drag my finger through the air. “I protect baby deer.” I shrug. “It would get you lots of swipes.”
He tears his garlic bread and stuffs half a piece in his mouth. I wait for him to comment on my observation, but he doesn’t. Worse, I think he knows that I want him to admit whether he does or does not use dating websites and is intentionally screwing with me.