Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I took an ice bath instead of a shower, trying to calm both my anger and the raging soreness awakening in my muscles. Working for four hours felt like a solid plan when I was at the gym, but I regretted it now.
When I finished, I dressed in a large t-shirt and boy shorts and fell onto the couch downstairs. Even the thought of reaching for the remote made my body whine in protest, so I audibly sighed when the doorbell rang. With no help to answer the door like usual, I heaved myself up in one motion to get the pain out all at once and waddled into the foyer. Peeking through the peep hole, my stomach fell.
It was Rhodes.
I cracked the door open slowly, trying to hide behind it. My hair was still sopping wet and soaking my t-shirt and my shorts were much shorter than the pants I usually wore to the gym. But when Rhodes saw me, his eyes didn’t fall to acknowledge them. They stayed on mine as I noted his still-wet hair and the grocery bags in his hands.
He shrugged. “Hungry?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
I shifted. “Am I Natalie or Bug right now?”
Rhodes grinned and the sight of it nearly knocked the air from my chest. “Bug. That is, if I still have the privilege to call you that.” He frowned again, waiting for me to respond.
Slowly, I opened the door further. “Come in.”
Rhodes’ shoulders were still tight as he moved inside. I closed the door behind us but he remained in the foyer. His eyes moved all around the house, taking in the living room and the large vaulted ceiling above it before settling on what little of the kitchen he could see from where we stood. He swallowed.
“Your house is… wow.”
I shrugged, grabbing the grocery bags from his hands. “It’s not my house. It’s Dale’s. And you’re not cooking tonight.”
Rhodes followed me to the kitchen. “I’m starving, though.”
“Me too. But you always cook and tonight I want you to talk.” I put his groceries in the fridge and cabinets before pulling out one of the meals Christina had prepared. It was baked lemon chicken with zucchini and squash. Pre-heating the oven, I followed her instructions written on the sticky note on top of the container and then turned back to Rhodes. “What does you being here mean?”
Rhodes paused, leaning his elbows on the edge of our kitchen island. “I don’t know.”
I shook my head. “Nope, not doing that. That’s what got us here in the first place. So are we friends or what?”
“Or what.” He chuckled, but I pursed my lips and he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Natalie. What if I told you I’m still figuring it out?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but then snapped it shut. I was still figuring out a lot of things, too — so could I really be upset with him for feeling the same way?
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he asked, one brow shooting up. “That’s it?”
I nodded. “That was honest. That’s all I can ask for.”
And it was. At the very least, I hoped he’d be honest with me more often, even if it meant hearing something I didn’t want to. For now, I didn’t want to think about it too much — he was here, which meant he did care about me, and that was enough. I needed him in my corner. After all, I’d already lost Mason and I’d be losing Willow soon. I was just thankful I hadn’t completely lost Rhodes, too.
We sat in the kitchen while I made dinner, talking about a little of everything. He asked me more about Willow and her program and I asked him more about his skills in the kitchen. I was careful not to dive into the family territory, not wanting a replay of Saturday night. Rhodes seemed to relax the more we talked and after dinner, I poured us each a glass of wine before moving us to the living room.
“You know you shouldn’t be drinking if you want to stay on your meal plan,” Rhodes scolded.
I scoffed and reached for the remote to turn on the stereo. Soft music poured from the speakers and Rhodes looked all around us, awe lighting his face. “You know I’ve had a pretty shitty week and don’t exactly care about my meal plan right now, right?”
“Can’t argue that, I guess.” He cheersed his glass to mine and we both took a sip, but his eyes were appraising me. “You’re cursing more now than when I first met you.”
“I guess I have more to curse about.”
Rhodes laughed, swirling the wine in his glass. “If that’s the way it’s measured then I should be a sailor by now.”
“You practically are.”
“Maybe I’m the bad influence, then,” he mused. His eyes were playful, his smile easy. Most of the time, Rhodes was shielded under a hard exterior, but in that moment, he was open. I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to find out more about him.