Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“I’ll make you some bread. And granola. Sourdough is really good for your gut health. You need microbe diversity and you can’t get that from just protein and vegetables. Tell your trainer I said that.”
He grins. “You’re selling it so well. Now I’m craving a microbe sandwich.”
I know he’s joking, but I take science very seriously. “Did you know that ninety percent of serotonin is made in your gut? You know what serotonin is, right?”
“Yes, Lainey. I know what serotonin is.”
“And serotonin levels can contribute to depression and anxiety. Bread can literally make people happier.”
He walks over to the fridge. “I believe it. I’m a grouchy fucker when I’m not getting any.”
He means carbs, Lainey. Not getting any carbs. Stop thinking about Bash naked. Seriously—stop.
I clear my throat, willing away the warmth on my cheeks. “Thanks for letting me stay here. It’s saving me a ton of money. I want to pay you something, though.”
“Absolutely not.”
“But--”
“No.” He takes a long pull from the stainless water bottle he just took out of the fridge. “Make yourself at home because this is your home as long as you want to be here. Just credit me with your success in your Nobel acceptance speech.”
I laugh at the thought. Bash’s smile fades away.
“Seriously, though. I think what you do is badass. Using your work to help people.”
“That’s the goal.”
“I’m proud of you.”
The warmth in my cheeks intensifies. Damn my fair skin. It’s like a neon billboard of my emotions. And the admiration in Bash’s tone and gaze is making me warm all over.
It’s what I dreamed of every day for years. I wanted to be special to him. He admires my work, though. Not me, Lainey, the woman.
And that’s okay. I moved on a long time ago. Bash is my friend now, and he’s a dear one. I have Shane.
“Thanks,” I manage.
“You want a drink?”
“No, I had a Dr Pepper on the way here.”
He groans. “You’re still drinking that shit?”
“Daily. Dr Pepper is my general practitioner. He’s an absolute boss, but the pelvic exams get a little invasive.”
With a grin, he says, “Come on, I’ll show you your room.”
He leads the way up the open, curved stairway with an intricately carved walnut railing. The walls upstairs are bare, but the space is still light and airy.
I’ve only been up here when I was staying the night with Eric after watching one of Bash’s games. We did that twice during his first season playing for Cleveland. After that, I started dating Shane, and he didn’t want me coming to Bash’s games.
“You’re in here.”
He walks into the first door on the right. I stayed in this room the other times we came here. It has the same dark wood floors as the main level, with three windows and a king-size bed that belongs in a luxury hotel. There are burgundy pillows lined up neatly and the white comforter is perfectly smooth, without a single wrinkle.
My bags are already inside the walk-in closet.
This room has its own bathroom, and I peek into the doorway, making sure the gorgeous bathtub is still there.
“I’ve always wanted to take a bath in that tub.”
I never had time for it the two times I stayed here. We got to Bash’s house really late after his games, usually after midnight, and we were up early the next morning for breakfast.
“Go for it. I’m making roasted chicken and veggies for dinner tonight. Figured we’d stay in.”
Here comes the dopamine rush. I’m over my crush on Bash—really—but him cooking dinner and talking about us having a night in is doing things to me.
Unexpected things.
“That sounds great,” I say. “I need to call Shane and I think I’ll unpack.”
“I’ll leave you to it.”
He leaves the room, pulling the door closed softly behind him.
I sit down on the edge of the bed and look at my ring. My engagement ring. I’m marrying Shane in five months, and I’m happy about it.
I am. Standing up, I go over to the closet to unpack, typing out a quick text to let my fiancé know I made it. I told Bash I was going to call him just so I could escape from the unexpected rush I was getting over him.
Shane wouldn’t pick up right now because of his video game tournament. And I’m still mad at him, anyway. I definitely won’t be telling Bash that, though. He doesn’t need any more reasons to dislike Shane.
Chapter Three
Bash
* * *
The next morning, my hand freezes in midair when Lainey walks into the kitchen, my mug of green tea in limbo.
“Good morning,” she says breezily.
“Morning.”
She’s wearing fitted black pants and a sleeveless, vibrant green shirt with a scoop neckline, the outfit hugging her curves. Her thick hair is sleek and straight, the ends just brushing over her shoulders. She has makeup on today, her eyes rimmed in dark shades and the light pink of her lips matching her cheeks.