Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine, and the world narrows to that single point of contact. His breath is slow and steady.
“Tinsley,” he says, voice rough. “I don’t want to rush this.”
I nod, eyes closed. My hands are on his chest, fingers bunched in his shirt. I can feel the hard beat of his heart under my palm.
“I want you,” I admit. “But I don’t know how to do this.”
He smiles, barely there. “We’ll figure it out.”
He kisses me again, quick this time, and then he looks at me like he’s memorizing the moment.
“I’ll see you Monday? For the car?”
I can only nod, my throat too tight for anything else.
He’s halfway to the door when I say, “Hudson?”
He turns, hand on the knob.
“Thank you. For everything.”
He inclines his head, one hand braced against the door frame. “Thank you for letting me in. I’ll see you Monday.”
After he leaves, I lock the door behind him and sit on my couch, the imprint of his hands still on my skin, and listen to the soft tick of the wall clock.
I realize, for the first time in a long time, that I’m not scared of needing someone. Or of someone needing me.
CHAPTER NINE
HUDSON
I set my alarm for five-thirty, but I’m up at five. I lie there on the edge of the mattress, the ceiling above me already glowing a sickly pre-dawn blue. The ranch house is quiet except for the distant sound of a cattle truck shifting gears as it grinds down the county road. After downing a cup of coffee, I dress and head out to my truck. I spent all day yesterday missing Tinsley, and I can’t wait another second to see her.
I drive over to her apartment building and park in the shade. It kills me that she insists on coming out to meet me, but I wait impatiently for her to appear. She strolls out right on time, dressed for the heat. Pale blue T-shirt, black jeans, hair braided over one shoulder. As she walks to my truck, I hop out and rush around to open her door.
“Morning,” I whisper against her soft lips as I pull her curvy body close.
“Good morning,” she breathes as my lips cover hers. Before things get out of control on the busy Silver Spoon Falls street, I pull back and help her into the passenger seat.
We drive in silence for the first ten minutes. She’s watching the road, and I’m watching her in the reflection off the windshield, the lines of her profile etched against the harsh glare of sunrise. I take her soft hand in mine and bring it to my lips for a kiss. “Do you need me to stop for coffee on the way?”
“No, I had two cups already.” She looks over and smiles at me. “But thank you.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” I mean those words. I’d do absolutely anything for her.
A while later, we pull up outside the bank.
“You want me to come in?” I ask.
She’s already grabbing her bag. “I’ve got this.”
I know she wants to do this on her own, so I don’t argue. I turn up the AC and pull out my book. “I’ll just wait here then.” After a few minutes, I realize I’ve been staring at the same goddamn page without reading a single word. So, I pull out my phone to check my emails. I check the markets. I text the stable manager about the new mare. Nothing holds my attention. I keep looking back at the glass doors, telling myself I should’ve at least waited inside. She’s in there for almost an hour, and I sweat every goddamn minute.
When she finally steps out, there’s a flush on her cheeks and a smile on her lips. I hop out of the truck and walk over to her.
“It’s official,” she says, voice ringing. “I’m the proud owner of a 2019 Corolla.”
Fuck, she’s something else. “Let’s go check out your new car.”
I follow her to the black Corolla, and she unlocks it with the key fob. She opens the door and looks up at me, her eyes bright in the late-morning sun. “Thanks for coming with me,” she says. “I know you probably have a million other things to do.”
“Nothing is more important than you,” I tell her. “Drive safe. I’ll be right behind you.”
The drive back to Silver Spoon Falls is a test of willpower. I keep her little black car in view the whole way, watching every swerve and lane change, my mind running wild with every possible disaster that could befall her on the open road. She’s a good driver. Confident. And I’m a pussy-whipped moron.
By the time we’re back in town, the heat has reached a fever pitch. I follow her to her apartment and park behind her in the lot. She waits for me by the stairwell, arms crossed, hair a little wild from the AC, and I know she feels the same static buzzing between us.