Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“I haven’t tried the lavender basil.”
“I love the two herbs individually. I don’t think they need to be mixed, so I‘ll spare you the trouble of suffering through it.” Taking the spoon out of my hand, she walks back into the kitchen, dumping them into the steel sink and letting them clang around the bottom. I’m busy cringing when she asks, “You were done, right?”
Not sure when I was going to be allowed to reply, but the time has passed to make a difference in the outcome. “All done.” After she returns each lid to its pint, she stacks them up and turns to load them back into the freezer. “What should we do now?”
I have ideas that would probably get me slapped if I voiced them. “Movie?”
She kicks the steel door closed with her bare foot, causing me to take a deep breath before I lose my shit. “Sure. What do you want to watch?”
“What about Mr. and Mrs. Smith?”
With her hands planted on her hips, she crinkles her face in disapproval. “You want to watch a movie about spies trying to kill each other?”
I move to the sitting area and open a box on the console beneath the big-screen TV hanging on the wall. “Don’t forget they’re married.”
“Oh, I didn’t.” Delaney’s already curling her legs under her. As soon as I sit and dim the lights with one of the remotes, she slides across the middle cushion to lean against me. She’s laying it on a bit thick. Call me a fool, but I’m into it. “What about Entrapment with Catherine Zeta-Jones?”
“Never heard of it.”
“What? How is that possible? You were alive when it came out.”
My stare latches onto thin air before turning to her with a cocked brow. “Are you not so subtly saying that you weren’t alive when it was released since I’m the old man in the room?” I find the movie and start it. It’s dated, but I’m open to seeing if it’s any good.
“It released years before I was born.” She rests her head on my shoulder, watching the movie studio logo cross the screen. I think she’s avoiding eye contact, but what would an old geezer like me know? “My dad loves heist movies.”
“So he taught you the con,” I mumble to myself.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I set the remote on the coffee table and wrap my arm around her shoulders. “It’s starting.”
Forty-five minutes in, I’m fully invested, but Little Miss Priss fell asleep twenty minutes after it started. Her soft snore doesn’t bother me, but it does have me considering moving her to the bedroom. Probably not wise to carry her with a broken arm, though. “Delaney?” I don’t know why I just kissed her head. It was there, and it happened before I thought twice about it. I gently rock her shoulders. “Delaney?”
Tired eyes that are barely open look at me. “Yeah?” Panic creeps into her voice. “What is it?”
“It’s okay.” I stroke her hair from the side of her face. “Let’s get you to bed.” Her breath instantly deepens from the suggestion, her eyes fluttering closed. But as soon as I shift off the couch, bringing her up with me, I add, “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
She moves with me, my arm around her back to support her weight as we walk down the hallway together. “I’m so sleepy.” Her words are slurred, her mind groggy when she speaks. Her body is limp, but with lackluster effort, she keeps her head upright.
“I know. We’ll get you to bed.” As soon as I get her to the bed, she crawls in. I start to tuck her in, bringing the blanket to cover her shoulders like I do this all the time. I don’t. I don’t have women over to tuck into my bed after . . . after our activities. Women don’t stay the night. This is my domain, and I like it that way.
But something about Delaney . . . is growing on me.
Lying on her side facing me, she opens her eyes once more and smiles when she sees me there. “You’re really handsome, you know that? Even with the black eye.”
I chuckle quietly. “I like hearing it from you.” I lean down to kiss her head, and whisper, “You’re beautiful, Delaney.” I don’t say it to return the favor. I say it because it felt like something I should admit to her. She reaches up to touch my face, but her lids are too heavy to keep open.
I start to wonder if these newfound feelings are real. They could be. It’s been so long since I've cared for someone that I need to sit with the emotion a bit longer. It could just be because the look she had in her eyes was genuine when she said it. She sounded as honest as I was. The truth revealed. With her under the spell of exhaustion, I should leave, but my feet don’t go anywhere. Instead, I kneel beside the bed, admiring the plush of her lips and the slope of her nose. She looks so peaceful, like an angel in my bed.