Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
“Thank you.” I clear my throat because I do not want to start crying. Not in front of his mom.
Sheesh, how the heck am I supposed to convince myself not to fall for this guy when he’s so sweet all the time?
I’m so screwed.
“Do you wanna hang out and stay for dinner? Bridgett’s making lasagna.” He picks up Lola when she walks out of the laundry room with her whining puppies trailing behind her.
“I don’t want to intrude.” She bends to pick up Coco.
“Mom.” He shakes his head while I gather up Louie and Chanel, who swarm around my feet. And, no, I have not shared their names with Noah since I’m sure he would not approve or would make fun of me, especially when he calls Coco "Rocky,” Louie “Ralph,” and Chanel “Butch.”
When silence descends over the room, I look up from kissing Louie and find Rebecca’s eyes on me like she’s waiting for me to tell her it’s okay if she stays.
“I’m also making scones,” I tell her stupidly. “But we’re not eating those with the meal. I just found a recipe I want to try. With dinner, we’re having asparagus and Italian bread.” She smiles while Noah groans.
“Asparagus?”
“Asparagus is delicious, and it’s good for you.” I glare at him.
“It’s gross.”
“You’ve never had mine.”
“True.” He gives me a look that feels a little inappropriate with his mother standing just feet away.
“I’ll stay,” Rebecca says, and when I take my eyes off her son, I swear I catch her trying not to laugh. “I’ve never made scones before. Do you mind if I help?”
“I would love that.” I set both puppies down and wash my hands. “I’ve only made scones once before, and they didn’t turn out that great. But the new recipe I found seems easy enough for me not to mess up.”
“Don’t let her fool you, Mom. She’s an awesome cook.”
“I figured that much when you stopped coming by for leftovers.”
I look at Noah as he shrugs, and my heart does a little double-beat. I knew that whenever I left food in the fridge for him, it ended up gone, but I didn’t know how much he enjoyed it until right now.
“Do you girls want me to open a bottle of wine?” he asks, and I look at his mom, who shrugs as her eyes meet mine.
“Sure,” I tell him. He goes to the pantry, coming out a minute later with a bottle of one of my favorite reds.
“I’ll be right back,” Rebecca says before heading toward the bathroom. I use that moment to grab my phone and pull up the recipe I found online.
As warmth hits my back, my hips sink into the counter in front of me, and I turn my head to the side to meet Noah’s gaze.
“Are you okay?” he asks while grasping the curve of my waist in his large hand. My breath catches, and a tingle slides down my spine from the very intimate position.
Conner was not a big guy by any stretch. He always used swimming as a way to stay in shape, which kept him fit but thin. And at just a couple of inches taller than me, I never felt physically small in his presence. With Noah, it’s the complete opposite. I feel tiny when I’m around him, even in my heels, and there is something almost euphoric about that.
“I’m good,” I whisper, glancing toward the bathroom. Honestly, I’m shockingly relaxed, considering what happened earlier—even with his mom here.
“Okay.” He gives my waist a squeeze and steps back, making me instantly miss his warmth.
“All right, I’m ready. Tell me what you want me to do.” Rebecca comes around the corner, rolling up the sleeves of her sweater. I smile at her, then pass her my cell so she can look over the recipe.
“I’ve already frozen the butter,” I tell her, going to the freezer to get it out.
“Oh, my,” she whispers, and I look at her over my shoulder, finding her staring at my cell with a horrified look on her face.
“What?” I ask, walking toward her. Before I even make it across the kitchen, Noah is there, taking my phone from her grasp.
“I didn’t mean to tap it,” Rebecca says quietly as she looks at me, then up at him.
“What is it?” I try to see what he’s looking at, but he hits the button on the side, turning the screen black.
“You don’t need to see that shit.” Noah grabs his keys before tossing my cell onto the counter.
“Honey.” His mom reaches for him as I scramble to get my phone.
“Keep her here,” he orders as I turn on my cell and try to find what they saw. Rebecca follows after him.
It only takes a second to locate the last message I got and see that it was from Conner. When I tap on it, I can only stare in disbelief at the text and image he sent me. In the middle of what used to be Conner’s and my backyard is a pile of name-brand bags, shoeboxes, clothes, and even my jewelry box, with a red can of gasoline front and center. The message under it just reads: I bet you talk to me now.