Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
She told me today that he was retired and waiting for her to join him. She laughed when she confessed she wasn’t that anxious to give up her job yet. “Maybe once he gets a hobby. He’s already moved things around in my kitchen, plans dinners neither of us likes, and insists on doing the laundry and loading the dishwasher.” She looked over her glasses at me. “As if I’d been doing it wrong all these years.”
I laughed with her.
When she asked why I was bringing food and not letting Thorne have any, I paused.
“We’re sorta in a tug-of-war right now.”
She pursed her lips. “I see. Is he being thorny?”
I chuckled. “At times.” I shrugged. “He doesn’t like, um…”
“…changes,” she finished for me.
“Yes. And we’re disagreeing about a decoration I have. Or had.”
She leaned close. “Wind chimes?”
“How did you know?”
She smiled knowingly. “I know everything that goes on around here. Oh, here he comes. Leave it to me.”
And she had made it seem as if I was going to file a report on my missing wind chimes.
He had folded like a house of cards.
I glanced at him again, the urge to crawl into his lap and wake him with a kiss tempting. But he needed his sleep, and I needed to finish the wind chimes untangling. Besides, there was a fifty-fifty chance he’d either throw me off his lap and yell or kiss me back. I wasn’t sure with him.
And despite what I threatened, the pot roast was for him. I even planned extra gravy.
But I was going to make him work for it.
I was stirring the gravy, humming along with the music I had playing, when Jesse woke up. I heard his body jerk awake, his feet hit the floor, and an odd noise come from his throat. I peeked into the living room. He was upright in the chair, looking around, still half asleep and wondering where he was.
“Hi.”
He looked my way, blinked, and suddenly smiled. A wide, happy-to-see-me kind of smile. He didn’t hold back—his eyes crinkled and his entire face beamed. He was incredibly appealing when he looked like that. Handsome but in a rugged, rough way. Sexy as hell.
“Hey,” he replied. Then he frowned. “Did I fall asleep?”
“You did. For the last two hours.”
“You should have woken me up.”
“You were tired. I finished the wind chimes and was about to have dinner.” I winked at him. “I don’t imagine you want to join me?”
He was out of the chair in a swift movement. “Yep.”
He followed me into the kitchen, inhaling deeply. “God, it smells incredible.” Then he indicated the bathroom. “I’ll just, ah, wash up.”
“Sure. I’ll finish getting it ready.”
He joined me a moment later, eyeballing his plate like he hadn’t eaten in a week. He waited until I sat down and picked up my fork before he picked up his, though, impressing me with his manners. He took his first bite of the roast, smothered in gravy, and chewed in silence, his eyes shut.
“You can live here rent-free if you make this every day.”
I laughed. “You’d get tired of it pretty soon. It’s a weekly thing. If you’re good, I’d share.”
He didn’t reply, eating steadily. His low moans in the back of his throat and the occasional grunt were different from his usual noises. These were pure happiness. Pleasure.
I had to wonder how he would sound during sex.
With me.
“Do you always cook like this?”
His voice startled me out of my thoughts. I cleared my throat. “Once a week, I like a real meal. Pot roast is my favorite.” I looked at him with a grin. “And lasagna.”
He groaned, shaking his head. “They didn’t give me any. Not even a scrap.”
“They’re good at following orders.”
“Part of the job,” he replied, nodding as I offered him water. “You follow orders, you listen to what your chief says. It’s not just you if you don’t. You could risk the whole unit.”
“Have you ever been in a dangerous situation?”
“A few times. Firefighting isn’t what you see in the movies. Explosions and roofs caving in all the time. But I’ve been in situations where it’s been scary. One time…” He trailed off.
“One time?” I prompted.
“There was a house fire. We got the kids out, and I went in with my partner for the dad. He’d pushed his kids toward us but collapsed. What we didn’t know was he was stupidly storing some chemicals. They were downstairs, and the fire hit them and exploded while we were upstairs, blowing out the staircase and a lot of the floor. I got separated from him and my partner.” He paused, swallowing. “The explosion flung me back up the stairs. I was hurt and surrounded by the fire.”
Without thinking, I reached my hand across the table, grabbing his. He flipped his hand over, our palms resting together. He gripped mine tightly. “I thought that was it.”