Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
When the music fades away, Skyla stops in place, breathing hard and in a pose that would probably put my back out and send me to the hospital. I’m so moved by what I just saw that I don’t want to break the spell.
I don’t want to ruin it.
“Alexa, stop music,” she says, and the room goes silent, except for Skyla’s gasping breath. She opens her eyes and sees me standing behind her in the mirror and shrieks before covering her chest with her hand. “Bloody shit, you scared me.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to interrupt because I think I just witnessed the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Her face softens, and she licks her lips. Noticing her water bottle on a table near me, I fetch it and take it to her, and she accepts. She’s breathing fast as she drinks, her bright eyes on me.
“Thanks,” she says.
“These are for you.” I offer her the flowers, and she smiles softly. “Summer helped me, and I think she did a good job.”
“They’re beautiful. I love ranunculus.” She accepts them and leans in to fuss over a bloom. “You shouldn’t have.”
“No, I really should have.” With my hands empty, I shove them into my pockets and rock back on my heels. “I feel like I interrupted something personal, but I’m not sorry because watching you dance is breathtaking, Skyla.”
She frowns down into the flowers before answering. “Thank you. It is personal, always. But I don’t mind sharing it. I performed on a stage for far too long not to enjoy an audience.”
I want to ask so many questions. I need to know everything there is to know about this woman.
“Are you going to ask for my number again, Mr. Blackwell?”
I could try to turn on the charm or be funny, but something tells me that isn’t what this woman wants or needs.
So I go with flat-out honesty.
“Yeah, Ms. Gallagher. I am.”
Her brows pull into a frown, and I want to reach out and smooth the pad of my thumb over the lines between them, but I keep my hands in my pockets.
“Am I so out of practice, having spent far too long with only cows and chickens, that I’m fucking this up so bad?”
She simply raises an eyebrow, her chest still heaving from her dance.
“Cows. Bessy’s pretty, but she doesn’t respond to adult conversation all that well.”
That earns me a smile, and a wrinkle of the nose that is fucking adorable.
I’m already obsessed with this woman.
“One date, Skyla. Let me take you to dinner, converse, and be near you for one evening, and if you decide that I’m a complete idiot, I won’t ask again.”
Those mossy eyes watch me for a moment as if she’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“I have character references,” I add. “And I can give you a background check if you want. I don’t have any arrests in my past unless you count the time when I got caught toilet-papering the math teacher’s house when I was sixteen. My dad made me sit in jail overnight just to teach me a lesson.”
“And did it work?” she asks.
“Hell yes, it worked. I’m not cut out for prison.”
She laughs again, and I can see the moment she softens. “Dinner sounds nice.”
“Are you free this evening?”
“That quick, is it?”
I grin at her and can’t resist reaching out to tuck a lock of that gorgeous red hair behind her ear. She doesn’t pull away.
“My luck just changed, and I’m going to take full advantage. I don’t want you to change your mind and break my heart.”
“Hmm.” She swallows and glances at the clock on the wall. “I have a class coming in fifteen minutes, and I’ll be done for the day at six.”
“Pick you up at seven?”
Skyla bites that lower lip, then nods. I wisely hold back my fist pump. “Seven it is. But I can meet you.”
“That’s not a date, Skyla. I’m a gentleman. I’ll pick you up and drop you off when the evening is over.”
She lets out a chuckle. “You’re good at pushing, aren’t you then?”
“I know what I want. You’ll need to send me your address. And to do that, you’ll need to give me your number.”
“Pushy cowboy,” she mutters as she crosses to a table, sets down the flowers, and retrieves her phone. “All right then, it’s my number you’re getting out of me, Beckett Blackwell.”
It’s about fucking time.
I give her my phone after unlocking it. “Go ahead and text yourself.”
She does, and when her phone buzzes with a notification, she passes me back my cell, opens her phone, and shows it to me.
“There, was that so hard?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” she says and lifts her gaze to mine. Jesus, I want to pull her in and kiss the fuck out of her. Push my hands in that thick hair and hold on tight as my mouth memorizes hers.