Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
He grins as if the memory returns. “Peach season.” Setting his eyes back on me, he says, “I miss the simplicity of being excited about fruit ripening in summer.”
“Us hokeys live for it—”
“That’s not what I was going to say or mean. You know me better than that.” He has a point. I’ve never heard him mock where he came from.
I drop my defenses and lay down my fork. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sure you remember how some tourists looked down on us.”
“I don’t think they were looking down on us. I think they were envious that life could be that down-to-earth. I think most people want that in their lives more than we know.” He glances out the windows to dots of lights outside his window instead of stars. “Maybe not New Yorkers.”
I laugh, loving how down-to-earth it is to be with him, even in the city that never sleeps.
The more I sleep in this bed, the more I never want to leave it. I roll over and hug it the best I can. “I’m going to miss you.”
He wraps himself around my back. “Did you just tell my bed you’re going to miss it?”
“I did,” I reply, feeling a little self-conscious about being busted. But what I wouldn’t give to have this bed in my room on the ranch. Or even better, my own place altogether. With Tagger there with me. That would be heaven on earth.
“Will you miss me or the bed more?”
“Tough call. Let me get back to you.” I giggle and turn in his arms. With the morning barely peeking in, I cup his face and kiss him. “You. Always you.”
He pushes up on his forearm. “Hate being the bearer of bad news, but you have just about two hours until you need to leave for the airport.”
I pout, sticking my bottom lip out. “This weekend flew by too fast.”
“We have the festival to look forward to. Beck is going to love it.”
Tapping his nose, I ask, “And you?”
Popping his lip out from under his top teeth, he smirks. “I’m going to love it so hard that it’s going to reawaken all those aches that have started to fade.”
Oh my! “I like the sound of this very much.”
“Get the barn ready for us.”
“It will be ready, alright.”
To my dismay, he gets out of bed and clicks the remote to open the blinds. “I’ll go grab coffee and muffins for us and let you pack.” Pulling on his jeans, he adds, “I’ll ride with you to the airport.”
“That could be two hours round trip.” Sitting up, I add, “It’s not necessary. You can spend that time with Beck since you pick him up today.”
He’s watching me as he pulls on a T-shirt. It’s not the same style of jeans or shirt he’d wear back in Texas, but he looks good. “You sure? This isn’t something we need to decide right now.”
“No, it’s fine. You can plan your day.”
Coming around the bed, he leans over it to kiss me. “I’ll be back soon.”
Flopping back on the mattress, I grin. “I’ll be here waiting.”
“You don’t know how much I fucking love that.” He gives me a wink before disappearing down the hall. I hear the door open and then close, the sound reaching all the way down the hall.
I reluctantly get up and steal one of Tagger’s Michigan State college shirts. Slipping it over my head, it drapes down to my mid-thighs. It’s soft, and the faintest scent of him is embedded in the fabric. I take a deep inhale.
Then I get to business and refold my clothes and organize my suitcase before laying the dress on top of it. I’m not sure how to travel with it, so I wonder if I should leave it here for when I visit. Where would I wear it there anyway?
Basically done, I spread-eagle over the top of this glorious bed to take advantage of it while I can.
The sound of the door opening and then the louder closing of it makes me smile. “In the bedroom,” I call out, thinking coffee and muffins in bed sounds divine.
“Hello.” Startled by the feminine voice, I pop my head off the pillow to find a woman standing in the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning?”
“What?” I sit up and watch her eyes dip to my chest. The shirt. I don’t feel like I’m in danger and could probably take her if I had to if she doesn’t have a weapon. “I’m a guest—”
“Of Tagger’s.” Disappointment coats her throat, and she looks toward the windows letting the sunshine in. “I thought you were the cleaning crew.”
“No.” I push up, dipping my legs under the covers as if they’ll protect me and hold them to my chest. “I’m his girlfriend. You?” Please don’t say his girlfriend, too. It’s not like I think he’d ever do that to me in a million years, but I’ve seen enough movies that play out like that with pilots having families in different cities and— “Who are you?”