Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
I had stubble, but he was fully covered. There was little denying who Slade was with this look, ridiculous that he thought he could hide.
“Well, I have a place you can clean anytime you want,” I said and pivoted around, cutting eye contact before I lost my mind again. I shoveled another bite into my mouth to keep from saying anything more.
“It’s early. The sun’s barely up. Stick around, have coffee with me,” Slade said, trailing behind.
“I gotta go,” I said with food still in my mouth.
“I think you could stay a few minutes,” he said.
I moaned something that sounded like a humph.
“Then come over when you’re off work,” he offered.
“Can’t,” I said, putting the almost empty plate into the sink.
“Sure, you can,” he said from somewhere behind me.
It felt like I was in a Slade Whitaker 101 class, learning how to keep the upper hand while he worked at getting his way. “You’re here to recover. I’ll mess that up.”
“No, you won’t,” he said, obviously giving me a solid D score on my test.
I reached for a paper towel, gathering the bacon to eat on the ride back to town.
“I have to close.”
He’d managed to come in beside me, screwing the top to a fancy thermos. “Take this. It’s a dark roast from Italy. I think you’ll like it.”
“Maybe. I get a pretty good one from H.E.B.”
Slade nodded. “I miss H.E.B.”
“Yeah.” Seemed enough of a condolence. Everywhere should have an H.E.B grocery store.
“Give me your cell phone number.” As if he anticipated my reluctant response, he handed me a small piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on top.
His number. Ten numbers that would connect us, no, tie us together. It seemed a big step. “You write like a second grader?”
“Why don’t you ever just answer my questions?” he countered.
My grin was immediate as I pivoted around and started for the front door, trying for elusive and mysterious for some insane reason I couldn’t process right now. That was bullshit. I still needed distance, probably more than I did before last night. “I’m gonna be late. I gotta go.”
I didn’t hear him follow me. Whatever he was thinking held his feet planted to the floor. “Sometimes people end a date with a kiss,” I said while twisting the knob open.
“Come back when you get off work,” Slade said. In five long strides, he was there with me. The front door opened. First, his hands came to my face. Next, came all that handsomeness until his lips landed on mine. The kiss was the perfect amount of chaste and sexy. Slade bit my lip before letting me go.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
I didn’t commit, but I wasn’t sure I could stay away.
We were pretty like-minded on things that mattered the most. One, no one could know about either of us, and two, we both really liked the idea of having sex more frequently. Goals met.
We’d see what happened next.
Chapter 12
Slade
Two Weeks Later
I’d been told Friday and Saturday nights made the Silver Star Saloon profitable.
Mace had whispered those words in my ear as I held him in my arms.
As I drove down the street, my grin spread at the fanciful way I’d guilted him into letting me hold him in bed and talk about nothing important for fifteen minutes. Mace gave as good as he got, and apparently, I enjoyed the pushback. I was honestly having the best time both in and out of bed.
Mace had set the alarm on his phone to make sure we didn’t take a second longer in our cuddle time.
My feelings for him were growing, technically, stratospheric level, but I kept that hidden, and was shit to do anything more than risk being identified, coming to see what all the hoopla was about.
I took the turn into a parking space at the end of Main Street, the only one available. The street was packed in both parking spots and revelry.
Something I’d never seen in this part of the world before, the packed bar spilled into a traffic coned-off space in the street. A loud country-and-western band played in the street, close to the saloon’s doors. Picnic tables and other seating had been set up randomly on the sidewalks and street. The rest of the retail lease spaces were closed. This was only about a community gathering for a good time.
Where did all these people come from? Who knew, but the mini country-and-western dance club and bar were in full swing an hour before midnight. The longest I could manage to make myself wait before making my appearance.
With the fate of a ruined solitude in my hands, I wore a ball cap that was strategically curved to change the angle of my face and a pair of thick vanity glasses and left the Jeep. If I was identified, everything would change.