Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I let out a breath. “Yeah, I know a thing or two about escaping a future I didn’t want.”
“And you didn’t want Star Falls?”
“I didn’t then,” I say. “Right now, there’s no place I’d rather be.” Our eyes lock, and I want to reach across and press my lips against hers. Earlier today—even earlier this evening—it was clear kissing Rosey was the last thing I’m supposed to do, the last thing I’m supposed to want. But in this moment, all the clarity has gone and my mind is full of fog and her. I can’t think of one single reason why I shouldn’t be kissing the woman in front of me.
“Are you cold?” she asks, as I take her mug from her and place it next to mine.
I shake my head and cup her face. “Are you?”
She bites down on her lip. “This is probably a bad idea, but I want to kiss you right now.”
“You’re right, it probably is a bad idea.” I let my hands drop from her face, but she places her palms over them and puts them back.
“But I want you to do it anyway.”
We stare at each other for a few more moments. I try to remember why being here, staring into Rosey’s blue eyes, is a bad idea, but my mind is blank. All I can see is her.
I lean forward. She smells of a pine forest after rain. Her fingers smooth up my chest and my entire body clenches at the feel of her touching me. Part of me knows I should try to resist her, because if I let myself melt into her touch, I’m screwed. I can’t ever remember feeling this way before. Maybe because in New York, it’s easier. All the rules are laid out in front of you: You go on a date. You kiss, you don’t kiss. And then you can disappear back into the city if it doesn’t work out. Things in Star Falls aren’t so simple.
Rosey lifts her face slightly, as if she’s asking for me, and suddenly I remember why I shouldn’t be kissing this woman. The Colorado Club. I’m her goddamn boss.
I’m her goddam boss and she doesn’t know it.
I should tell her, say something. She needs to know. But I’m trying to lie low, stay focused. Kissing Rosey was never part of the plan.
A screeching yowl from somewhere interrupts us and we break apart, my hands falling from her face, our breath still mixing in the cold night air. Just as I begin to think I imagined the noise, Rosey—panting, chest already heaving—says, “Did you hear that? Was it a wolf?”
We shift to face the wilderness, but I can’t let her go completely. My hand slides down her arm and takes her hand in mine. “It didn’t sound like a wolf.”
The yowl sounds again, just before a long-haired white cat lands from nowhere on the porch railing.
“Fuck!” I say. “Where did that come from?”
Rosey starts to laugh next to me. “Not a wolf, then.”
“Way scarier than a wolf.”
“Byron, it’s the fluffiest cat I’ve ever seen. There’s nothing scary about it.” She leans forward, holding out her hand. “Here, kitty, kitty. Who do you belong to? Is she Beth and Mike’s cat?”
“I have no idea. But Beth and Mike live on the other side of town, so I doubt it.”
“Maybe we should feed it.”
“That will just encourage it to stay.”
She beams as I say it, like that was her exact plan.
“But it’s someone else’s cat,” I say, as if that’s the real reason I don’t want to encourage its presence here. “I’m sure they’ll miss it if you steal it away.”
Rosey narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not sure your intentions are honorable.”
I chuckle. “If you knew what I was thinking up until we got interrupted by that cat, you’d know they weren’t honorable.”
I enjoy the blush creeping over her cheeks. I glance back at the cat to find it staring at Rosey, like it knows she’s the soft touch here. It’s not wrong.
It jumps from the railing onto the floor by Rosey’s legs and starts to rub itself against her jeans. I can’t blame it. Wasn’t I ready to do the exact same thing a minute ago?
“I’ve always wanted a cat,” she says. “But there wasn’t enough room for all of us in our trailer, let alone a pet.” She scratches the cat under its chin and the cat starts to purr like a Bugatti.
“It’s loud,” I say.
Rosey laughs. “You jealous?” she asks. “You want me to tickle you under your chin?”
“You can do anything you want to me,” I reply.
“I’m going to take a rain check on that,” she says, letting go of my hand and standing. “I have an early shift tomorrow. I don’t want to piss off my boss on my second day.”