Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
He takes a deep breath, averting his eyes to something over my head. My heart pounds, wishing I could take the question back. I shouldn’t have asked it. It was the beer talking.
“I—”
“Caroline,” he says.
I cup the back of his neck with my palm. “Thank you for answering that.”
“She’s no longer in the picture, if you’re curious. No pun intended.”
“May I ask why not?”
He looks briefly at the sky and sighs. “I have this way of … that is, my life’s complicated.” He settles his gaze on me. His eyes are clear and unguarded, and it takes my breath away. “I make a lot of shitty choices sometimes, Astrid.”
“So Caroline is out of your life by your choice or hers?”
“Mine.”
The shirt I’m wearing bunches up in the back, and his fingers dust against the sensitive skin just above my ass as we turn in a half circle. Our gazes lock on contact, and he touches me again, slowly, seeking approval.
I hitch a breath. My body doesn’t ask, it demands to be touched by him again. I lace my fingers through the back of his hair, bringing our bodies so close that even a raindrop couldn’t come between us.
“What about you?” he asks, his voice rougher than before. “Is there a man out there who thinks he’s your guy?”
Does Caroline still believe she’s your girl? The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t ask it. It matters, but maybe not enough for this conversation. Or perhaps I’m scared to know the answer.
“I think the idea of being my guy would strike fear in most men’s hearts,” I joke.
His brows pinch together.
“No,” I say, hyperaware of the small designs he’s drawing on my back. My throat is as dry as a bone, so I swallow to wet it again. “There’s not been a man in the picture since Trace.”
“The guy the letter was over, right?”
I nod.
His eyes narrow, and he laughs softly. “How in the hell is that even possible?”
“What do you mean?”
He starts to speak but sighs instead.
The song comes to an end, and I expect him to let me go, but he doesn’t even loosen his grip on me in the slightest. Our dance fades into the next tune chosen by the band, and our gentle, lazy side-to-side sway never ceases.
“I’m going to say something,” Gray says. “And I hope it doesn’t … make things weird.”
I grin despite my heart palpitations.
“Astrid, you’re fucking gorgeous.”
What? My hands move to his chest to push away, but he stops me with the sweetest smile.
“You’re brilliant. Talented. Strong as hell.” He chuckles as if he’s remembering our disagreements. “How do you not have a line of men fighting for you?”
“Probably because I’d fight them back.” It’s a joke designed to segue the conversation elsewhere, but one look at Gray and I know that’s not going to happen. Resigned, I dangle my arms over his shoulders again. “I don’t have men fighting for me, as you say, because I don’t want one.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. But that’s a lie. I do know. Although I could leave it there, Gray was honest with me, so the least I can do is be honest with him, too. “I have trust issues. I guess that’s probably the crux of it. Every time I’m in a relationship, I have to defend myself.”
“Defend yourself from what?”
“Lies. Unreliability. For daring to breathe.”
I’ve never put this into words before, so getting it out in the open is so freeing. Sure, there’s a chance that Gray will feed this back to me at some point and make me feel small over it, but most men never share anything real with me, yet Gray has tonight. So maybe it’ll be okay.
“For the record,” he says, a tease in his tone. “I like it when you breathe.”
My shoulders sag, and I giggle. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Do you know what else?”
“What’s that?”
He pulls back and looks me in the eye. “That shirt you’re wearing? It has my last name on the back in big, bold letters.”
“I know.”
“And everyone here who sees us together with you wearing my shirt will think we’re together.”
Oh God. My cheeks flush. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about—”
“I think that’s so sexy.” He bends forward, his breath hot against my skin. “I’ve never been prouder for a woman to wear my name.”
“Really?”
“Are you kidding me? Look at you. If you’re with me, I’m batting way outta my league.”
My knees wobble. I clutch his shoulders to steady myself, gasping a quick breath. Whatever’s happening is happening out of left field and at full throttle … and I desperately don’t want it to stop.
No one has ever said anything like that to me. I’m not sure that anyone aside from Audrey has said they were proud of me for anything. So for Gray Adler to say he’s proud to have me wear his shirt with his name in big, block letters on it in his hometown? That’s so, so wild.