Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I grab another flower when the door shuts behind me. “I know we’re Methodists and don’t exactly believe in confessionals,” I say to Lolly. “But I had some super mean thoughts today in church, and I feel like maybe I need to tell someone to absolve me of my guilt.”
“Oh, really?”
Whipping around, my heart ricocheting off my rib cage, I spot Hartley leaning against the doorway with a pie in one hand. Damn. That’s a picture of dessert in a few different ways.
“I thought you were Lolly,” I say, giving him a little laugh that sounds pinched.
He shoves off the wall, placing the pie on the table, then lazily moving toward me. “What mean thoughts were you having this morning?”
Shit. There’s a shimmer in his eyes, nearly making the browns appear green, and I know he knows exactly what mean thoughts I was talking about. He did catch me glaring at the back of Lora’s head … twice.
My cheeks flush. “Why are you here?”
“Lolly asked me to come in that way where it’s debatable if she’s really asking or telling, and I wasn’t man enough to find out.”
“That would make two of us.”
He smiles, and every worried, guarded part of me softens.
It’s tragic how quickly he undoes me. It’s equally unfortunate that he’s the only person in the world who can affect me in this way. There have been times in my life when I would’ve given a lot of things up just to have someone else—anyone else—be able to flip a switch inside me like Hartley Adler. But no man has ever come close to possessing that ability.
“How’s Pigasso?” I ask. “I haven’t gotten around to calling any rescue centers yet, but I will.”
“Sure.” He winks. “What are you working on?”
I glance over my shoulder. “I brought Lolly some flowers, and I’m trying to cut them down to fit in this vase.”
“Need help?”
“Not with that.” I grimace, facing Hartley again. “Do you know what I do need help with?”
He hums.
“Fried chicken.” I lift my shoulders, trying not to gag at the idea of eating a baby chicken. “After the whole Pigasso thing, I’m a changed woman. I can’t do it. I can’t eat any animal.” I frown as a shiver runs down my spine. “I don’t know what to do because I can’t hurt Lolly’s feelings.”
Hartley laughs. “What in the hell am I supposed to do about it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I could slide my pieces under the table, and you could eat them?” I bat my lashes in case it helps. It usually does.
He just shakes his head in amusement, so I move along. We both know that if I thrust a breast in his hands, he won’t turn it down.
My cheeks heat at the double entendre, so I go back to the flowers. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“What about it?”
I grin. “Oh, you know me and tequila.” I laugh, hoping to keep the conversation light. “It’s not that I was goading you on the dance floor with what’s his name, but I did sort of put you in a position, and I apologize for that.”
“How do you figure?”
“I mean, I was looking at you when he grabbed my ass.”
Hartley leans against the counter beside me, folding his thick forearms across his chest. His sleeves are cuffed at his elbows. From the corner of my eye, I notice the flex of his muscles and the veins tracing down his arms.
“Darlin’, I would’ve done the same damn thing whether you were looking at me or not.”
His words make my knees weak. Heat colors my cheeks, and I refuse to look up at him.
“Not what I expected to find in Lolly’s kitchen,” Markie says, just before I register that the back door has opened. “Am I interrupting anything?”
There’s humor in her tone that I don’t appreciate. I fire a look over my shoulder.
“No,” Hartley says, staying rooted in place. “You’re not interrupting a thing.”
She hums, placing a bag of ice in the freezer. “Whatever you say.”
“Did you see Lolly out there?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.
“Yeah. She said she’ll be inside in a minute.” Markie washes her hands, then checks the oven. “Damn, that smells good.” She closes the door. “What are you doing here, Hart?”
“Lolly told me to be here at two thirty for lunch. So I’m here at two fifteen.”
“What a good boy,” Markie says, teasing him. “But I’m actually glad you’re here because I heard through the grapevine this morning that Jasper’s devastated you’ve banished him from the ranch.”
I shove the final tulip in the vase before turning to face Hartley. He’s good friends with Jasper. Why would he not hang out with him anymore?
“I love it, by the way,” Markie says, smiling from ear to ear. “I don’t even care why. If it’s true and Jasper’s miserable, I’m happy.”