Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
His matching groan had the need ratcheting up, a clawing, desperate sensation that begged for relief.
Nave’s hand slipped from my neck, sliding across my shoulder, drifting downward to—
The crunch of a twig had us both springing apart.
Nave, the protector he was, stepped back, glancing around, hands already curled into fists, ready for a threat.
While I could do nothing but lean against the tree, reveling in the long-forgotten sensations flooding my body.
Adrenaline pinged off each nerve ending, seemingly everywhere at once. Pulsing, pounding, sizzling.
“Hey,” Nave called, making me jerk. “Is that the way back to the park?”
So, someone was there.
I probably should have moved away from the tree to see whom Nave was talking to. But my damn legs felt a little unsteady, and I needed the tree for support.
If this was what it was supposed to feel like with a man and a woman, then, well, I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt anything like it before.
“Yeah. I’m heading back if you want to follow me,” a soft, older man’s voice said.
“Thanks,” Nave said, reaching out for my hand and gently pulling me along with him.
Thankfully, letting myself notice how his fingers slipped through mine and tightened was enough to take my attention away from my weak legs.
Nave fell into companionable conversation with our guide. While I went ahead and just enjoyed the way the timbre of Nave’s voice seemed to wash over me.
As we drew closer to the end of the trail, the laughter of children filled the woods, making my lips curve up.
When I looked, Nave was smiling too.
My heart leapt.
Before I reminded myself that I couldn’t go getting my hopes up for a man just because he liked kids.
When my mind tried to remind me of all the other reasons I had to like Nave, though, I simply had to ignore them.
Almost as if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Nave dropped my hand to reach out and shake our guide’s hand before he ambled away.
“Let’s get you back home before I get you lost again,” he said.
But he didn’t look at me when he said it.
What was that?
Regret?
My stomach twisted as I slid into the car.
I spent the whole ride back to the homestead reminding myself that it was for the best, that men hadn’t offered me much good in the past, that my baby and I were probably better off alone.
But when I lay down to sleep, all I could think about was Nave’s lips, his hands, the soft flutter of his breath on my skin, his hand holding mine.
“Dammit.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Nave
“As much as I appreciate not having to mow the lawn myself,” my father said, coming out on the front path with two glasses of iced coffee in his hands, “I have to wonder what has you up and over here at ten in the morning to do it for me.”
I pushed the ancient mower—the same one I’d been pushing through the yard since I was a teenager, thanks to Uncle Seth fixing the damn thing up anytime it broke—toward the garage and then met my father on the path.
I took my coffee and followed him to the front porch, both of us sitting down in the shade.
We’d had a momentary reprieve from the unrelenting August heat and humidity. But it was back at full blast. I was soaked through with sweat after just an hour.
“So, is it club shit or personal shit?”
“Why would it be club shit?”
“Eh, anytime a group of men gets together there can be issues. Especially when there are new prospects.”
“Nah. I like Spike and Cain. They’re polar opposites of each other, but it’s a good balance.”
“So it’s personal. You know I’ve never been one to tell you how to live your life, but I’m gonna lay the guilt on thick here. Your mother is not gonna take it well if you take off on the road again, doing God-knows-what with God-knows-who.”
“I’m not going anywhere. It was time to come home, and I plan to stay here.”
My father looked out at the distance, our profiles so similar that I had a glimpse into exactly what I would look like at his age.
Not too shabby.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain woman staying at the homestead. And the fact that you have been there every day since she moved in. Would it?”
It wasn’t every day. Not since the woods. I’d been trying to give her space. The last thing she needed was to try to put up with my advances while she was trying to stitch her life back together. And, you know, come to terms with being a single mom.
I still dropped in. Brought groceries that seemed less and less necessary, offered to take her to appointments, to do tasks around her little yard.
As time went on, I was finding fewer and fewer reasons to show up.