Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“I hate that,” he says softly.
“It was rough. I couldn’t read and I just kept failing, but when I’d ask for help, everyone would talk to me like I was stupid. I’d get mad that the words wouldn’t stay still for me to focus on them.”
“So it’s like the whole word moves? Or only the letters?”
I look up to see if he’s teasing me, but he’s not. He genuinely wants to know. “Both. When I know what the word is supposed to be, it’s easier. But most of the time, they’ll jumble up, or when I’m super anxious, they’ll move.”
“That’s so annoying,” he says softly. “Have you seen the medical trials?”
“Yeah,” I say sadly. “I was in a few when I was younger, but my confidence was shot to shit by everyone always putting me down. So, Dad focused on getting me the help I needed, and when I began to regain that confidence, I started to succeed.”
“Your dad was a bomb-ass dude.”
“The best,” I agree.
“The keyboard helps, that Professor Koshkin designed?”
“Yes,” I say, which is a relief to discuss. “It will capitalize some of the letters for me, so I can read better.”
“I downloaded it. It’s really neat.”
His words make my insides burn. I glance over to see if he’s showing a hint of teasing or condescension, but he’s not. It’s just Dawson being Dawson. Curious and kind. “You didn’t have to download it.”
He makes a sound of contempt. “What did I tell you? I wanted you to be able to use my phone if you needed.”
I smile softly. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me for doing something I wanted to, heart-stopper.”
Our eyes lock, and my breathing kicks up. “Still, I just want you to know it means a lot to me.”
He winks at me, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
He’s so smug.
I love it.
“Which reminds me,” he says as he pulls out his phone. He hands it over to me, the photo of me in the bikini shining up at me. “The code is 5960. Put your number in.” I swallow, holding his phone, and he nods toward it.
I do as he asks before handing it back. He gives me a look. “Ambrosia Mercer?”
I hold up a hand. “What? That’s my name.”
“But you’re my heart-stopper.” He winks before changing my name then tossing his phone next to him on the floor like he didn’t just blow my mind and make me feel all kinds of special. “Make sure you save me as ‘Yours.’”
I look up at him through my lashes and laugh. “So smug.”
“Damn right.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Ambrosia.
Before we get back to our pumpkins, Dawson asks, “So you’ve done these things in past relationships?”
“No one has ever wanted to carve pumpkins with me, but I think it’s because I talked a lot of shit and scared them off.” That has him barking with laughter, and I smile widely. “And I’ve never gone with one to a pumpkin patch since I always did that with family.”
“Until me.”
“Until you,” I agree as my chest warms. “I tend to date very goal-driven guys, so no one really made the time to do things like this.”
I feel his gaze on me, and I hope he knows how much it means to me that he has. “They should have made time. That’s not goal-driven, that’s selfish. You should have been one of their goals—not that I’m complaining since they were stupid and didn’t make you a goal, and now you’re mine.”
I give him a come-on expression, and he grins like he isn’t using the bricks of my walls as pucks and sending them to the back of the goal.
I blow out a breath, trying to will my heart to calm down. “Not everyone is like you.”
“No wonder you dumped them.”
I snort. “They dumped me. Well, except for the last one.”
“They dumped you? Wow, you picked some real D1s, huh?”
I laugh a little louder as I nod. “Totally,” I snort. “They all just wanted to get in my pants, and then as soon as I assumed we were in a relationship, they’d quickly remind me we weren’t or just ghost me.”
I glance up to find him still watching me. I want to tell myself that his pumpkin will suck with how much he’s been watching me instead of his work, but again, he brought power tools.
“Man, good thing I came after you, because you don’t know how to pick them.”
I throw more guts at him, and he dodges out of the way like I’m a defensive end coming in for the tackle. He is so quick and athletic. It’s sexy, but the look he flashes me, like he can’t believe I threw guts at him, has me giggling so hard I can’t breathe.
His laughter matches mine, the playfulness of the situation making me as gooey as the guts all over us. I love it. I have never laughed this much in my life. I feel like, for the last couple years, I’ve been just like Dawson. Focused on everything but what makes me truly happy.