Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
I don’t know where to start. His dad’s supposed dodgy heart or his birthday. “You didn’t say it was your birthday.” I smack his bare back, annoyed that he neglected to give me such vital information.
“It’s just another day.”
“No, it’s not. It’s your birthday.”
Groaning, Dec crawls off me and lays front down on the bed, and I clamber to straddle his arse, having to shimmy my dress up to do so. He places his arms under his head and rests his cheek there so I can see his profile as I start tickling his back, grazing my fingers up and down his spine, smiling when his muscles tense and his shoulder blades pinch in the middle. “That’s nice,” he whispers, closing his eyes.
I lean down and get my mouth close to his ear. “Happy birthday.”
He smiles, pushing his face into mine. “Thank you.” Then he shuffles over. “Who was on the phone?”
“Mr. Percival. He was worried about me.”
“That’s sweet.”
“He also asked if you’re trustworthy.”
“Cheeky bastard.”
Falling to his chest, I frame his face with my hands and exhale as I press my mouth to his, feeling his hands sliding up my back, his mouth opening, his tongue meeting mine. “It’s your fortieth.”
“I know.”
“Are you feeling forty?”
“No.” He cups my backside with both palms. “I’m feeling thirty-seven.”
I grin and nibble at his jawline, and he groans and rolls us, trapping me beneath him, taking my mouth.
“It fucking pains me to say this,” he murmurs, taking moments between our kiss to speak. “But I’ve got to go.”
“Nooooo,” I groan, locking my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders.
“April’s done lunch. She’s making a fuss, and I have to pretend I’m grateful. I’d ask you to come, but—”
What? “No, no, I get it.” I shake my head vehemently. I wouldn’t have met his father if I’d had a choice—pleasant man. His sister? That requires preparation. Women don’t exactly warm to me anymore, and I’m not entirely sure how to fix that. “Besides, it’s a bit early.”
“Is it?”
I recoil, my mind emptying as Dec gazes down at me. “You don’t think it is?”
“Well, I think that things got quite serious last night.”
I don’t know if he’s talking about the pile of confessions I dumped on him of the love thing. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of scrutiny,” I admit, thinking honesty is the best policy.
“Why would you feel scrutinised?”
“She’s your older sister. That’s what they do. Like if I had an older brother.”
“Ummm, you do have an older brother, Camryn.”
“Not one that likes me.”
“Oh my God,” he breathes, exasperated. “Look, I’m not asking you to come today. It would send April into a tailspin, anyway. She’s one of these women who has to have everything perfect. An extra guest would throw out her ratios on food per person.” He rolls his eyes when I laugh. “But I want you to meet the people I love.”
“You have more siblings?”
“No, just April. And her husband, Blaine.”
“Oh.”
He slams a kiss on my mouth and stands. “I’ll take you home.”
“You or Ron?”
“Me. Ron doesn’t work weekends. Neither does Lynette.”
I watch him strut away, pulling his sweatpants down as he goes. Disappointment slides through me, and I pout, just getting a peek of his yummy backside before I lose him to the bathroom.
Snowflakes gently float down around us as we stand side by side outside my building looking at Mr. Percival’s turkey. “I suppose I could put it in my freezer,” I say, as Dec crouches and pokes at the tarpaulin now covering the wire netting, the rocks pinning it down perfectly in place. “If it’ll fit.” I tilt my head, mentally measuring it. “I mean, it’s a monster, and I saw his freezer. It’s rammed full of various Christmas treats he’s been preparing. He must be feeding five thousand.”
Dec rises, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Weird old man.”
“He’s nearly one hundred, so he can be anything he wants to be.” I push the door open slowly and gently and creep over the threshold.
“What are you doing?” Dec asks from behind me.
“Trying to get into my apartment without being accosted.”
“By the weird old man?”
“He’s taken it upon himself to be my guardian angel. I think he’s lonely. Or bored.” I hold the door open, looking over my shoulder. “You don’t need to walk me to my door.”
“I want to.” Dec pushes the door open with brute force, and I wince when it ricochets off the wall behind it.
“Shhh,” I hiss. And two seconds later, Mr. Percival’s door swings open. “Shit.”
“Ah, the walk of shame,” he sings, chuckling to himself.
“It’s not the walk of shame, Mr. Percival, if I’m not ashamed.”
He hobbles out of his flat, popping his flat cap on, eyeing Dec. “What are your intentions?”
Dec balks at him. “Excuse me?”
“With the lovely Camryn. What are your intentions, son?”