Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Uncle,” Juniper supplied, then shoved her feet into a pair of neon-green Crocs and grabbed her bag. “Thank you!”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Eloise warned, her gaze sliding to mine.
I stood, disassociating from the pain as I walked toward Hudson. As much as I hated to admit it, I’d missed him the last few days.
He grinned, that dimple appearing in his cheek as I approached, but his expression quickly fell when he looked down. “What the hell happened to your feet?”
“It’s nothing. Paying the price of a few lost calluses, but they’ll rebuild.” I rose up and kissed him, quick and fast. “This is Eloise, Kenna’s mother.”
He offered his hand, and Eloise took it, shaking it slowly. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mrs. Lowell.”
“If you’re who I think you are, then I’m afraid I can say the same.” She folded her arms over her pink sweater. “You were a thorn in Sophie’s side.”
“Proud of it.” He nodded.
“Hmm.” She walked back into the studio as Juniper rushed by, her bun already falling out in places.
I walked them out, rolling my stiff shoulders and neck, then said goodbye to Juniper as she hopped into Hudson’s truck.
He wound his arms around my waist on the front porch. “Looks like you’ve decided to go with the act of God strategy?”
“Something like that.” I placed my hands on his chest. “You know how you’re always talking about balance?”
He nodded, two lines creasing his brow.
“There’s not going to be any balance. Not for the next month.” I swallowed as the pressure tightened in my chest, mixing with the bitter taste of fear. “Eloise, Kenna, and Everett are all out here for me, and I have to show up every day for them. My focus has to be on what happens in that studio if I want any shot at getting my role back.”
He pulled me closer. “You cutting our time short?”
“I don’t want to.” My hands slipped up his T-shirt and around his neck, and my chest constricted. “But it would mean you draw the short stick. The only time I’ll have is at night. I’ll be pulling eleven-hour days and sleeping at least eight hours at night to recover. Give or take the hour or two it will take me to wake up and eat meals, and there’s not much else.”
“Am I an asshole if I ask for the leftovers?”
“No.” I shook my head and barely kept from sighing with relief. The skeptical part of me had screamed that he’d walk away.
“Then short stick it is.” He bent down and kissed me. “If this was a movie, you’d be heading into your training montage. I get it. I have no problem counting sleep as quality time. Your place. My place. I’ll make it work.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, and that ache started freaking throbbing in the area of my heart.
“Any way I can have you.” He kissed me again, taking the time to deepen it just enough that my breath quickened and I leaned into him. “Try to make it nine.”
“Nine what?” I asked as he let me go and started down the steps.
“Nine hours in bed,” he replied over his shoulder. “You give me that extra hour and I promise you’ll sleep better the other eight.”
I snorted. “See you tonight?”
“You want me to knock? Or do I have to climb up the trellis?” He grinned as he reached his door.
“I’ll let you in,” I promised.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. See you in a few.” He climbed into the truck, and I walked back into the house after his taillights disappeared down the drive.
Eloise was waiting in the foyer. “That little girl looks awfully familiar.”
“Does she?” I closed the door and fought to calm my racing heartbeat.
“She looks like Lina. Same eyes. Same smile. Even steps out of her pirouette at the same place when she loses her balance.” She stared at me. “Anything you feel like telling me?”
Mom hadn’t told her. “Nothing comes to mind.”
“Hmm.” She nodded. “And her uncle. Is he a distraction?”
My spine straightened. “No, ma’am.”
“Good. Hate to waste all this work on a summer fling.” She headed up the stairs.
No wonder Eloise was such good friends with my mother. Their words were eerily similar. It was on the tip of my tongue to argue that it wasn’t a fling . . . but that’s exactly what we were doing. That’s all I’d asked for, all I could handle, and everyone—even Hudson—knew it.
But just because I knew it wouldn’t work out once I went to New York didn’t mean I didn’t want it to. I simply knew better than to open my door to the inevitable destruction our failure would cause. So I concentrated on what we had, and I threw everything into now.
Days spun into weeks, whirring by in an unending cycle of work, pain, and recovery. Slowly, my body adjusted. My calluses thickened. My ankle strengthened.