Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Also, I know what I’m doing now. I was having sex back then, but I can’t imagine I was very good at it.
Now though? I’m real good at it, and I get to be good to Sally.
“Pretty damn lucky,” John B says.
Sally bites her lip when she descends the last step and looks up at me. “You’re early.”
“Course I’m early.” I slide a look at John. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”
I haven’t seen Sally since Wednesday, when she stopped by the ranch with John B to examine an injured longhorn. Our conversation was brief, but I did get to give her a quick kiss before she left.
We’ve talked on the phone. Texted some too. But nothing compares to being in the same room with her.
The smell of jasmine fills my head as Sally goes up on her toes and wraps me in a hug. “Hi,” she murmurs.
Careful not to pull her too close, I circle her with my arms. “Hi.”
She falls back, hands resting on my biceps. She’s still smiling. “My bag’s right there. Dad, I’ll…see you later?”
I grope blindly for air. Has Sally ever been this lit up? This happy?
John B must notice it, too, because he looks at her for a long beat before he takes a sharp inhale. “Sounds good. Y’all have fun.”
He cuts me one last look, as if to say, Remember your promise.
Then he disappears into the house, and Sally is reaching for the little black bag by the door.
“I got it,” I say, leaning down to grab it before she does.
Sally is still fucking smiling when we’re in my truck and on the way back to my place. “That wasn’t awkward at all.” Her voice drips with sarcasm.
“Not one bit. I don’t know what the rules are for picking up your date when she lives with her parents,” I tease.
She carefully pulls her hair out of the collar of her coat. “I think the only rule is, you get her the hell out of there as fast as you can.”
“Mission accomplished?”
She’s biting her lip again. “Mission accomplished.”
“So…I did a thing.” I switch hands on the wheel so I can put my right one on Sally’s thigh. “Many things, in fact.”
“Can I be that thing?”
“Of course you’re going to be that thing. But I did other things for us to enjoy before that.”
“Like?”
I smirk. “You’ll see.”
CHAPTER 22
Sally
WILD CARD
Wyatt opens the front door of his house and holds out his arm. “After you.”
I step inside and am immediately inundated by a magazine-worthy spread of cozy deliciousness. Or would it be delicious coziness?
Either way, I never, ever want to leave.
The house is small but beautifully proportioned—think thirteen-foot ceilings, hand-carved millwork, and big windows that let in tons of light.
But it’s the tiny, beautifully decorated table in the kitchen to my right that has my heart doing a hundred backflips. The table is covered in a checkered tablecloth, and it’s set with real china and a pair of candles. There’s a charcuterie board on the countertop, alongside a big salad bowl that’s filled with crisp-looking greens topped with what appear to be chunks of roasted butternut squash.
The oven hums. The savory smell of roasting meat fills the air. There’s something oddly familiar about it.
Coldplay is on. A bottle of wine and two fancy-looking wineglasses are set out beside the sink.
Despite the massive amount of preparation that obviously happened in the kitchen, the space is spotless. So is the living room that the kitchen opens up to. It’s dominated by a huge fireplace, which is filled with wood.
I cover my mouth with my hand. I literally don’t know what to say. What to do.
This is all so perfect, so romantic, I want to cry. I’ve been here a handful of times since Wyatt moved in, but he’s never had it set up like this.
“Wy,” I say weakly.
Setting my bag on a nearby console table, Wyatt slips his fingers inside my coat. “You like it?”
“How did you—where did you—the time—and the salad—the wine—do you even like wine—”
“I do actually.” He presses a scruffy kiss to my nape as he pulls off my coat. “I’ve been thinkin’ about this night all week. And thinkin’ about this night had me thinkin’ of you, which of course got me all hard and shit. My dick literally wouldn’t let me sleep. So figured I’d make good use of the time.”
I get this feeling in my chest. I can only describe it as a best-day-of-your-life feeling—so full of joy, of tenderness, that I’m about to burst.
Have I ever felt more special in my life?
Have I ever felt more seen?
This isn’t some half-assed date, thrown together at the last minute. This took thought. Planning. A serious amount of effort.
The kind of effort you make for the people you love. Not like. Not people you have casual, kinda-sorta dig-you feelings for.