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’m packed and on my way back. If we leave early enough, maybe we could get some breakfast,” I texted after slinging my duffle bag into the bed of the truck. The instant drumming dots at the bottom of the screen told me that Slade had been waiting for my return.
“I’m still coasting on a sex high. It’s a marvel how your body responds to mine. We move together on instinct. It makes our sex the most incredible of my life. Jesus, Mace.”
My grin was instant. Slade’s emotions always tumbled out of his mouth or in this case his fingers. I didn’t know how he was able to get anything else done in his day. I expected to receive sonnets soon enough.
“Do you always say what you think?” I typed teasingly, already knowing the answer. I’d hopped into my truck. We had a schedule to keep. I should start the engine and finish this conversation face-to-face. Of course I didn’t, using my thumbs to type on the screen as the visor helped block the intense rays of the sun.
“My resting bitch face usually keeps people away from me,” he replied with a laughing emoji attached.
At least I turned the key to start the engine, sitting there with the rumble vibrating through me as I typed. “I don’t see it. I’m going to have to see this other side of you soon or I’m not going to believe you.”
While texting with Slade was great, I forced the phone to the seat beside me. I’d pressed the brake and dropped the gear shift into drive when the next text came through. I was shit to do anything more than pick up the phone. My boot pressed harder against the brake. Who knew why?
“I’m into you,” Slade replied. My grin was immediate.
“I know,” I responded, loving the silly way I handled Slade. Of course, I knew he wanted the same affirmation back. I rarely replied to anything in the way he wanted. It seemed like a dangerous precedent to begin now. “Those words play on repeat whenever I’m around you.” That was likely the truest statement I’d ever made and continued with the fun of the morning. I released my foothold on the brake and inched forward, phone still in my hand. After this last reply, I’d take off, ignore any other messages until I got back to his place.
“What does it look like if you went back to New York with me?” he asked.
My abrupt laughter startled me. Okay. Well, I hadn’t expected that response. The thought was absurd. Hell, even I understood I wasn’t tough enough to handle that speed in life. I enjoyed distance from the crowds. How would I cope with a twenty-four seven constant chaos?
Absently, I stopped the truck again as I worked my thumbs feverishly to get my words sent. “I’m a hillbilly, Slade. I’m not New York City material. What would I even do there?” I shook my head definitively, the question didn’t even deserve a response but I gave one anyway. “Who would take care of the sanctuary if I left?”
With that, I tossed the phone back into the seat next to me and picked up the cowboy hat, placing it back on my head. When the phone dinged, I managed to leave it in the seat while I picked up speed, driving in the direction of Slade’s place. Another ding followed then another.
I counted it a win that I managed to let all those texts go semi-unnoticed and fully unread.
My influence in Slade’s life felt very much like a life preserver that he clung to, doing his best to stay above water. I believed he needed my grounded attitude toward life. I got it. Having roots was the only thing that helped me survive all the loss I’d experienced.
When I pulled into Slade’s circle drive, I spotted him on the porch, arms crossed, a scowl on his handsome face. For some reason, it made me laugh out loud again. Happiness was fucking addictive.
“You aren’t a hillbilly, Mace,” he said the exact moment I stepped one boot-covered foot on the rocky driveway as I exited the cab.
“Why?” I called back, grinning. “Because callin’ myself a hillbilly’s actually offensive to real hillbillies?” I laughed before the final word could be said, tickled at my reply. Slade, on the other hand, only lifted a cocked brow.
“I feel like my feelings should be hurt,” Slade countered as I started toward him.
“Well, we can’t have that. You have too many feelin’s to manage already,” I responded, enjoying this way of banter better than any other time before.
“You’re magnificent. Don’t make light of your value in this world,” he scolded, the brow still arched. “But based on the giant grin on your face, I might have misunderstood the humor in your text. I can see that now.”