Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
She laughs. “Follow me.”
She maneuvers her wheelchair around stacks of inventory. She chats with me the entire time as she searches for the one box she’s looking for. I love that my best friend doesn’t let her neuromuscular disease hold her back from doing what she wants with her life. She’s always had the courage to go after the things she wants, and I admire the hell out of her for it.
“Here it is!” Mallory calls when she’s found it. She points to a box at the top of the pile. She can stand for brief periods if she’s careful but there’s a risk she could fall. So whenever I’m with her, I tell her to just sit and let me grab things.
I retrieve the box and put it where she can access it.
She beams at me as she opens it. She paws through her colorful dresses until she reaches a light blue one with pink flowers that looks vintage. The halter top with the deep plunge will show off my cleavage.
“I’ve never worn something like this.” I finger the soft material. I don’t know how she designs these. Not only is her work beautiful, it’s also comfortable. The moment her shop opens, she’s going to get plenty of business from the women in Courage County.
“It’ll drive Walker wild,” she says with a giggle.
She loans me a petticoat that makes the dress look full and somehow produces a plunge bra. I twirl around in my dress when she’s finished fussing over it. “You made me feel like a princess.”
“A very hot princess. Now, come here,” my friend says.
She stands with me and snaps a photo of us on her phone. She taps on it and gives me a grin. “Something tells me your date might start earlier than you expect.”
I shake my head and grab a box. “Where should I put this one?”
She directs me to hang it up on one of the far racks while she tackles the next box. We chat as we work, talking about our lives. She tells me how happy she is with River and the way he made her a sewing room that’s wheelchair accessible. It’s her favorite place to focus on her creations, especially when Lily is playing underfoot as she sews.
We’ve only been working for half an hour when I hear the front door of the shop open. “Angel.”
The cutest blush steals up Mallory’s face at the nickname. I used to be jealous of how in love with River she was. Not because I was interested in River. I just wanted to know what it felt like to be that adored. Now thanks to Walker, I do. We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, adoring each other.
“Back here,” she calls out in a sing-song voice.
River stomps into the inventory room with us and makes a beeline for his wife. He presses a kiss to her forehead and says something in a low tone.
I turn away and pretend to busy myself.
“I have work to do, Mr. Scott,” Mallory says in a prim tone. I love the way they’re forever teasing each other.
“Work can wait. I have plans for you tonight,” he says, his tone dropping in that suggestive way I recognize. Walker’s tone goes low just like that too. It’s more of a deep growl that always makes me shiver.
I’m about to tell them that I can lock up for her when the front door opens again and a moment later, Walker appears in the inventory room. He’s scowling as he looks at me and Mallory, “Why the hell isn’t the door locked when you’re both here alone?”
“That’s a great question,” River frowns in Mallory’s direction. “We’ll talk about this when I get you home.”
She just shrugs, and I can’t help wondering if River is as dominant as Walker is. He certainly seems to be overprotective and bossy just like my hot cowboy.
“What are you doing here so early?” I ask as I take in Walker. He’s holding a bouquet of sunflowers and has changed his clothes since I saw him last. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that perfectly hug his thick thighs and a gray t-shirt that clings to his biceps. I have a sudden urge for him to pick me up and take me against the nearest wall.
He steps close to me, invading my personal space in that delicious way that only he can do. Why is it every time he’s close all I want to do is climb him like a tree? Images from last night flash in my mind and suddenly, I’m hungry for something more than dinner.
“It’s time for our date, kitten,” he growls and nips at my earlobe.
A shiver runs down my spine. I glance at my friend. “Are you OK if I—?”
She waves me away, barely paying us any attention. She’s too busy whispering with River and looking like they’re planning for their own sexy times.