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)
“You should relax and listen to whatever you want. They’re paired to my phone.” I open the phone and hand it to her. “Play whatever you’re in the mood for. Music, podcasts, videos, I don’t care.”
“Beckett.” The word is quiet as she looks up at me in the mirror.
“Go ahead.” As she lowers her gaze to my phone and starts to thumb through the music app, I take her hair out of the towel and comb it through, making sure there aren’t any snags. I clip half of its weight to the top of her head, then flip on the blow-dryer to start on the bottom portion.
Skyla’s hair is thick. Heavy. And so fucking soft, I’ll enjoy every minute of drying it for her.
She must have found something she wants to listen to because she sets the phone down and sits quietly, watching me in the mirror as I carefully run my fingers through the strands, blowing it dry before I pull more sections down and continue the same steps.
I’ve never done this before. Sure, I’ve blow-dried Birdie’s hair when she’s stayed over, but I’ve never been so invested in a partner to want to blow-dry her hair. Why Skyla? What is it about this woman that has me pulling out all the stops, so keen for her to want more of me?
I’ve no idea, but I do know that I want to keep her here, and I’ve never felt that before. She’s so … perfect for me. For this farm. Not that I’ll tell her that, as I’m sure that would send her running. I’ll keep that to myself for now.
When it’s all finished, Skyla tugs the earbuds out of her ears, places them in the case, and stands. She loops her arms around me and hugs me close. I’m still watching in the mirror. She fits perfectly against me, her head not quite meeting my chin and her cheek resting just over my heart.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “That felt incredible. You can do that every week when I wash my hair if you want.”
“You wash your hair once a week?”
She nods against me. “Yep. If you want a new hobby, you’ve got it.”
I smirk and plant my lips on the top of her head, breathing her in. I fucking love that she intends to keep me around long enough to pamper her week after week. “I would love that, actually.”
She jolts back and frowns up at me.
“I was kidding. Of course, I don’t expect you to do that all the time.”
“I’ll do it anyway.” I shrug and kiss her lips. “Come on, let’s make some dinner, then cuddle up for the evening.”
“Can we watch reality TV?”
She walks out of the bathroom ahead of me, and I laugh as I follow her. “Absolutely not. What’s wrong with an action movie?”
“One action movie for every two episodes of Love is Blind.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What is that?”
“Trust me, you’ll love it.”
Chapter Fourteen
SKYLA
The movie he chose isn’t horrible. There’s a lot of gratuitous blood and a lot of running, but the hero is handsome, so there’s that.
We had another delicious meal of leftovers from last night, keeping it simple, and we’ve been curled up on his sectional couch with pillows and blankets, watching TV for the better part of an hour. It’s already dark outside, but Beckett closed the blinds, so it feels like we’re in a cozy cocoon.
My scalp still practically tingles with joy from the way he tenderly washed and dried my hair for me. It felt a million times better than going to a salon, and from the look on his face while he did it, I’d say that he might have enjoyed it more than I did.
And that’s saying something because I wasn’t joking when I said he could do that as often as he wants.
I lean further into Beck’s side, nuzzling his chest against my cheek. I love how solid he feels against me, how warm and strong, and he smells so fecking good.
His lips are planted in my hair, and there’s an explosion on the screen when suddenly, everything goes black. We’re shrouded in immediate silence and darkness, and my heart kicks up as panic settles over my nerves.
“Shit,” Beckett mutters as he stands, probably to check what happened.
It’s so dark.
It feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest, and my side, where he was, is now ice-cold without his warmth. I start to shake, and the breath leaves my lungs.
Riley starts to whine.
“It’s okay, boy,” Beck says from across the room.
“He’s looking for the lights.” I swallow hard. My voice sounds thready. “He thinks he has to turn on the lights.”
“Can you call him to you?” he asks, and I can hear the concern in his deep voice.
“Riley, come.”
The dog jumps onto the couch and covers my lap. He’s a huge, heavy dog, but I need him right now because this absolute darkness …