Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Well, you did a beautiful job on it.”
“Thanks.” It made me feel self-conscious when he wandered over to look at the sketches covering one wall. I said, “I’m going to freshen up a bit. See you in a minute,” and hurried to the bathroom.
After I brushed my teeth and tried to finger comb my messy hair, I went into my bedroom and took off my sweater, shoes, and socks. Then I paused and looked around, taking a few deep breaths to settle my nerves.
The room was on the small side, but to me it was a palace, especially after the insecurity that had come with being homeless. I’d put a lot of effort into decorating it, starting with painting the walls a soft lavender and the secondhand furniture a crisp white. Whenever I had a little extra money, I added something to the room. I’d sewn pretty curtains, along with a duvet cover and cute, decorative pillows for my queen-size bed. I’d also recovered an old beanbag, hung up some art prints, and found a yellow shag area rug on clearance. The most recent addition was a small bench, which I’d found on the street, refinished, and placed beneath the window. That had to be the last thing I brought in, because nothing else would fit in here.
Devon came into the room and shut the door behind him. Like me, he was barefoot and dressed in just a T-shirt and jeans. “This is the prettiest and coziest bedroom I’ve ever seen,” he said.
“I love it in here. It’s going to break my heart when I have to let it go.”
“I know you said you have to consolidate, but why wouldn’t you keep this room if it makes you happy?”
“Because the other room is bigger, and my sewing machine and all that other stuff would never fit in here. I may not have many clients, but I’m not ready to give up on my dream of being a designer.”
He nodded and took a step toward me, and my nervousness cranked up a few more notches. Without thinking about what I was doing, I scooped my teddy bear off the bed and hugged him to my chest.
Devon stopped walking, his voice gentle as he said, “If you’ve changed your mind about this, we don’t have to do anything.”
“No, I want to. I just need a minute.”
“Sure. You’re calling the shots, Kit.” He indicated the bear, probably because he knew I needed the distraction. “Who do we have here?”
I felt foolish, so instead of answering, I lowered my gaze and mumbled, “I was just moving him out of the way.” The fact that I was hugging him told a different story.
“I have a stuffed turtle that I’ve taken on all my travels. I got him when I was two.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
I glanced up at Devon and said, “I’ve had this bear since I was five. He’s been one of the few constants in my life.”
“What’s his name?”
“It’s silly.”
“Mine is named Tata. That was the closest I could come to saying ‘turtle’ as a toddler. Somehow, the name stuck.”
“I named my bear Stiffie,” I admitted. “Again, I was five. His arms and legs were kind of stiff when I first got him.”
He grinned at that. “I love it. My stuffed animal’s name is slang for a boob, and yours is slang for an erection. I feel like they go together.”
That made me smile. After a moment, I murmured, “I’m sorry I’m so…”
“What?”
There were plenty of words to choose from—shy, awkward, anxious. But I went with, “Nervous.”
“It’s fine to be nervous. It’s also fine to change your mind and kick me out. I won’t be offended.”
When I looked into his eyes, I saw patience and understanding. It was obvious that he wasn’t the type of guy to push, or to try to talk me into anything. I murmured, “I definitely don’t want to kick you out,” as I set aside the bear and slowly closed the distance between us.
My heart was racing. It wasn’t like this was my first hookup ever, but it definitely wasn’t something I did often.
I liked Devon and felt like we’d built a bond tonight, but somehow, that only added to my nervousness. I stopped short and blurted, “Just to be clear, I don’t do relationships. This is a one-time thing, nothing more.”
“I’m not looking for a relationship, either. I’d never want to start something I couldn’t finish.” I’d almost forgotten about the psychic’s prediction until he said that.
I took another step forward and reached up to touch his face. He hadn’t shaved in a day or two, so his jaw was rough with stubble. I traced his sideburns, which were long enough to seem retro, and toyed with one of his tiny, silver hoop earrings. On anyone else they would have simply been a fashion accessory, but they made Devon look a bit like a pirate.