Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
I followed Brady and Cole, wincing as they tossed my suitcases into the truck bed. It was covered with a layer of old leaves, and I hated seeing them rub against the gorgeous blue-gray shade of my bags. It had always reminded me of a storm.
“Are you sure brought enough stuff?” Cole asked pointedly.
“I make my living from social media,” I said, with a slight dig in my voice. Though I couldn’t deny the popularity of Down to Earth, their online show, it didn’t seem very well monetized, and I doubted the income went far among the three them. “I have to look nice.”
Brady grinned as he opened the passenger door. “Doesn’t seem like that’d be much of a problem for you.”
Whatever he meant by that—and perhaps it was just a straightforward compliment—was canceled out by the fact that he clearly intended for me to sit in the middle between them. “I prefer a window seat.”
Cole grumbled as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “This isn’t a plane.”
Brady held out a hand to help me up. “I’d take the middle, but my legs won’t fit.”
“I have legs too, you know.”
His eyes swept down my pants, which were on the tight side. “So I see. Come on, it’s not a long drive.”
Rolling my eyes, I ignored his hand and climbed into the truck myself. That small show of independence backfired when I got one foot onto the floor of the cab with my back bent and my ass probably right in his face. Quickly, I twisted around, getting into a seated position before sliding over toward Cole.
Brady had a slight grin on his face, and I bit back a frown. Let him enjoy the view—he wouldn’t be enjoying much else this week. Not if I had my way.
Then he climbed in after me. “If you don’t scoot over, hon, I’ll never get the door closed.” Brady wasn’t as big as his cousin, but with his lean and lanky muscles, he was still quite a bit bigger than me.
Begrudgingly, I inched closer to Cole, angling my body so my legs were still on Brady’s side.
“I’m flattered you think I’m that thin, but I’m not,” Brady complained.
I moved over more, and I could feel the heat from Cole’s skin, but there was still an inch between us.
At least until Brady scooted against me, pressing me up against his cousin while he wrestled the door shut. “There we go.”
I felt like the filling in a sandwich cookie. My arms were against their arms. My thighs against their thighs. And my feet—well, they had no room with Brady’s scuffed tennis shoes filling the space.
“Where are my feet supposed to go?” One was on top of the other in an uncomfortable way.
Brady grinned and patted his lap. “I’d be glad to hold them for you.”
Yeah, that wasn’t happening. I wiggled around, trying to get more comfortable, and was very aware of the hard, muscled bodies on either side of me. Then I yelped as I felt a hand on my thigh. Brady buckled his seatbelt, and then rooted around in the space between us.
“Hey!”
He grinned and tugged out a seatbelt buckle. “Just trying to help you stay safe.”
“Want me to help you find the other side?” Cole asked in his low voice.
“I can get it myself.” I could—but I had to lean hard against Brady to fish out the other side of the belt.
Cole took advantage of the space I made between us to fasten his own seatbelt.
Once I was buckled in, I felt like I was in a straitjacket. I couldn’t lean more than an inch or two in either direction, not that I wanted to. I sat as straight as possible, trying to touch the two men as little as possible.
“Would you be more comfortable in the back with your luggage?” Brady asked innocently, but I could hear amusement in his voice.
“I just might be.”
“It’s not safe,” Cole said unnecessarily. It wasn’t like I could get out of the truck without one of them moving anyway. “By the time we’d got there, you’d be covered in bruises.”
My heart sank—likely it would be my luggage that would be disfigured after the drive. “How far is it to the inn?” On the online map, the Elburn station and Donovan’s Mill weren’t that far apart. But the map had also shown the roads getting smaller and smaller.
“About forty minutes.”
Incensed, I turned to Brady. “You said it was a short trip.” It was disconcerting to have his face so close to mine.
“That is a short trip around here,” he said mildly.
I eyed the small restaurants and shops on either side of the main road we were traveling down and already felt homesick. “How long would it take to drive to Chicago from your place?”
“Just under two hours if there wasn’t much traffic,” Brady said.