Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Will narrows his eyes for a second before returning a slow nod.
I try not to stare at his bare chest, but it’s not easy.
We should be able to pick up where we left off, but it never seems to work that way. Every time we have an “almost” moment, something erases it, and I feel like we’re always starting over.
Should I ask him what I tasted like on his lips?
“No rush,” he says, running a hand through his hair while continuing to the kitchen.
“I was serious when I said I could come to Somers for a day or longer if you need someone to . . .”
“To what?” he asks, standing in front of the open fridge for a few seconds before retrieving a package of turkey and a bottle of mayo.
“If you need a friend to talk to, I’m an excellent listener. Some people wait months for the chance to tell me their secrets and problems.”
“I can’t afford you.” He sets two slices of bread onto a plate.
“We could barter.”
“You’ve mentioned bartering before. I’m not sure what you’ll get from me, if you’re giving me free therapy.”
“Well, you said you’d be back here to visit. And they’re pouring the concrete for my barndominium next week, so before you know it, it will be constructed and ready for me to work on the inside. I could use help. And if you rent out your house and need a place to stay for a few days, you can stay with me.”
He looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “In your Airstream?”
I press my lips together and nod, hands folded behind my back.
“You realize that I have lots of friends in Missoula who will let me stay in a spare bedroom.”
“You realize you had your fingers inside of me this morning.”
I have never seen Will blush—until now.
“The universe has decided we are a one-and-done,” I say.
Will checks his watch. “I have a few minutes now.”
“No way.” I laugh. “Your dad will call. Someone will barge into the house. It will start on fire. Something will happen. And my . . .” I think the word heart, but he doesn’t need to hear that a day before moving to Somers. “My body can’t handle any more teasing.”
“I understand,” he says with a sad smile, glancing at the floor for a few seconds before looking at me again. “Let me take you to dinner.”
It’s like he’s trying to sweep me off my feet without a broom. We are a self-contained fire destined to burn out. “You need to pack some things,” I say.
“We’ll do it when we get back.”
We?
“Fine. But it’s my treat.”
He barks a laugh. “I won’t argue with you, Dr. Reichart.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Will
Just as I step outside, Everleigh closes the shed door. She’s wearing a sleeveless black one-piece shorts thingy that shows most of her gorgeous legs, and the V-neckline plunges so low it makes my dick twitch.
Sleek gold belt.
Gold necklace.
Hair silky straight.
Black heels that could bring me to my knees.
Why does God hate me?
I clear my throat. “I’m underdressed.”
Her white teeth peek through her red lips as she grins. “William, you always look sinful in jeans and a crisp white T-shirt.”
“Sinful, huh?” I slide my hands into my pockets while she hops on her toes from one stepping stone to the next to keep from stepping in the grass with her heels.
Good Lord, those fucking legs. She’s a magnificent creature, and she doesn’t even know it.
“It’s torture,” she says, looping her arm around mine.
The last time I walked arm in arm with her like this was at the wedding. But that night, I knew where it was headed. Tonight, things are different. We’re different. And life is just as complicated as it was back then. For a guy who’s never had a serious relationship, this thing between us feels more than casual. Maybe taxing is the right word.
I stop at the front of my Bronco. “I can’t open the door for you.”
She releases my arm and narrows her eyes. “Oh? Is it broken?”
No, but I am.
“Opening the door would feel like a date.”
“Gotcha. A date comes with expectations.”
“Exactly,” I say.
“Like a good night kiss?”
“Like a good night fuck.”
She giggles, heels clicking on the driveway as she heads to the passenger side. “I don’t have amnesia, William. I know you’re more chivalrous than that. But I accept your need to keep me at arm’s length. It’s for the best.”
As we head downtown, Everleigh suggests the Stables, her favorite wine bar and restaurant. I don’t argue since she’s paying. When we’re seated, do I order the fifty-five-dollar prime New York strip? Yes, I do.
“To your father,” she says, holding up her water glass.
I’m not sure I’ve ever toasted a dying person before now, but I keep listening.
“May he find peace in your presence, love in your embrace, surrender to faith in his last days, and see hope in the light when he closes his eyes for the last time.”