Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
I headed back to my chair, knowing full well he was likely to follow. Which he did, stopping to frown at the TV I’d paused for his knock.
“You’re watching without me?” He sounded far more wounded than I would have thought. Guess I was making a game show fan out of him.
“Not Jeopardy. A stupid movie.” My skin heated, an uncomfortable prickle racing up my spine as I reached for the remote.
“You’re blushing.” Adler grinned at him as he came to stand in front of me. “Is it a naughty one? Stuff Santa’s Stocking Volume One?”
“Nothing like that.” I waved the remote. I’d be less embarrassed over porn, and my discomfort gave my voice a testy edge. “Just a movie I watched every year with my folks, then my dad, and now me. It’s silly. I know every word of A Christmas Story, yet I keep on watching.”
As much as I wanted to pretend the date didn’t mean anything, clearly, my brain had paid attention to the calendar because I’d had the movie cued up before I’d really registered what I was doing. It had been my holiday-averse father’s one nod to the season, a habit I couldn’t seem to kick.
“That’s not silly. It’s a tradition.” Adler plopped himself down in my lap. I had a perfectly good sofa, which he never used as more than a coat rack. “I brought cookies.”
“You gonna stay to eat one?” I asked. He didn’t need an invitation, but I knew him enough to know he’d appreciate one anyway. “I don’t have to finish the movie.”
“Yes, you do.” He wriggled, as happy as the dogs with their new toys. “And I love this movie too. Bet I know as many lines as you.”
“You’re on.” Smiling came so much easier around Adler. He wasn’t wrong about having memorized the movie. It didn’t take long before we were cracking each other up by delivering lines along with the characters.
“Okay, you win.” I gave a fond chuckle as the movie neared its predictable conclusion. “My dad had a leg lamp tattoo, and you might know more quotes than even him.”
“I’m glad you have some good holiday memories with him.”
“Eh.” A heavy sigh escaped my chest, the weight of a whole lot of years of missing pushing down on my shoulders. “Sometimes thinking about the good hurts worse than the bad.”
“Truth.” Adler turned to offer me an understanding look. “I miss my family and some of our traditions too. Sometimes it’s easier to not think about the parts I miss. And it’s not that they wouldn’t welcome me back, but I doubt they really notice my absence.”
I hoped he was wrong and that his folks missed him fiercely, but I’d known enough people with difficult family situations to not offer an empty promise that they did care. His truth was his truth, and his family hadn’t paid attention when it mattered.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Adler gave a dismissive gesture, almost knocking the remote off the end table. “I don’t even have trauma to point to. Not fitting in is hardly that terrible of a story. Many people yearn for a big family.”
“Maybe so.” I held him tighter, both to stop the flailing and because he needed it. “Doesn’t mean growing up wasn’t hard on you. Something I learned in the tattoo chair is that sometimes letting go of a hurt means you gotta acknowledge the burn first.”
“That’s wise.” Adler traced the rope tattoo ringing my forearm. “Is that why you get tattoos? Therapy?”
“Guess that’s one way of putting it.” I shrugged, but he continued to look all expectant, so I added, “Dunno. Got the first one when I was so fucking pissed at the world, and it seemed to give the anger a place to go.”
“When you were injured on the rodeo circuit?” Adler was a good guesser.
“Yep.” I nodded curtly, not enjoying unearthing the memory of never-ending months spent on crutches until the inevitable realization that my rodeo days were done for. “Long recovery. Lots of time to build up one helluva cranky mood.”
“Your dream got shattered.” Adler sounded far too indignant on my behalf. “I think you’re allowed some grief.”
“Not sure if it was my dream or another place for all that righteous teen indignation,” I admitted. I hadn’t hated the rodeo life, but it hadn’t been in my blood, not like cowboying was. “I was angry for a long time before and after rodeo.”
“Again, not unwarranted.” Adler Kelly was my fiercest defender.
“You keep tryin’ to see the good in me.” I made my voice stern, but he merely chuckled. “I’m no saint.”
“You’re a good man, Gray.” Adler stroked a hand down my torso. “A fair boss. A great friend. An excellent dog parent.”
“What are you buttering me up for?” I faked skepticism.
“Well, if you’re taking requests…”
“Depends on the request,” I hedged. His vulnerable expression when he’d shown up was lodged in the front of my brain, and I was already prepared to meet whatever demand. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to hoping for a non-public, sexy wish.