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)
“I was driving by, and I saw your SUV. I also saw you sitting in it and wondered if you were okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“Why are you sitting in your car in the dark behind a bar, Casey?”
“My date didn’t go well.”
“I see. I wasn’t aware you were going on a date today.”
“He was an asshole.”
“I’m sorry.” He paused and leaned closer, sniffing me. “How much did you drink?”
“Only a couple of spritzers.”
“Spritzers? Do those count?”
I shrugged. “I’m a lightweight, and I didn’t eat much.”
“Driving under the influence? Do I need to make a citizen’s arrest?”
“I’m not driving,” I protested.
“But you could.”
I glared at him. “I’m reporting you for sexually harassing me.”
“I’m not harassing you!”
“But you could.”
He stared at me and started to laugh. “Touché. Move over, Casey. I’ll drive you home.”
“You have to work.”
“We had an extra man tonight. They’re covered. I was heading home since I still have lieu time.”
“Your truck.”
“I’ll get it in the morning. Scoot.”
I clambered into the passenger seat, and he waited as I got on my seat belt. “You really only had two spritzers?”
“Yes. But I hadn’t had lunch. And the asshole ruined dinner. And splashed me with his beer.”
He chuckled. “Prince Charming. You need to eat something, then.”
I shut my eyes. “I’m tired. I just want to go home.”
I thought I felt his fingers in my hair. “We’re going.”
“No,” I replied, pushing his hand away. “I’m mad at you.”
“Why are you mad, Pixie?” he asked quietly, the tone of his voice tender.
I couldn’t open my eyes. “You walked away Saturday night. You left me.”
He was suddenly close. Very close. He ran his nose down my cheek, his lips nuzzling the skin.
“I didn’t want to.”
“I didn’t want you to either.”
“What did you want?” he whispered.
“For you to kiss me,” I admitted.
And then I passed out.
Chapter Fourteen
JESSE
She dropped that bombshell and then passed out.
Two spritzers and she was a goner.
I shook my head and started her SUV, heading for home.
I glanced her way and was unable to stop myself from lifting my hand and running it down her cheek. Her skin was as soft as I thought it would be. Warm under my touch.
She had been on my mind since I’d left for my shift. Before that, even. But for some reason, our calls had been minimal, and I’d had a lot of time to think the past few days.
I had finally admitted the truth.
I wanted her.
She was beautiful. Funny. Sweet. Disruptive and a pain in my ass. And she made me smile.
Few things did.
She made me feel lighter.
I had struggled with the fact that I didn’t want a relationship. She had basically stated the same thing. Mark had pointed out the fact that we were adults. If we were both in agreement that what happened between us was only for now, then why should we deny ourselves?
Saturday night, I had watched in wonder as she sang. She was incredible. Her voice was nice enough, but it was the way she threw herself into the song—strutting around the stage calling out for a hero. Living the song.
And I found myself thinking I wanted to be that for her.
Knowing she’d been on a date tonight made something in my stomach clench. I didn’t want her dating anyone. I wanted her in my life, but I wasn’t sure she wanted the same thing.
I pulled into her driveway, shutting off the engine. I looked at her keys, making sure I had the one for her door, then I went around the SUV and undid her seat belt, sliding my arms under her knees and lifting her from the vehicle. She mumbled into my neck as I carried her into the house and up the stairs to her room. I laid her on the bed, looking around in curiosity. She had put the bed under the front windows, the wrought-iron-and-wood bed frame intricate. The closet lined the wall on one side, and the other had the window where her wind chimes hung, their sound light in the night air. She had an old chair I recognized as Lou’s in the corner, a pile of books on the table beside it.
There was no door to the bedroom, the entire upstairs an open area. At the top of the stairs, the bathroom was on one side and butted up against mine on the other side of the house. I could occasionally hear the water running, but that was about it. I liked to tease her, though. I opened the medicine cabinet, shook out a couple of Tylenol, and filled her water glass, figuring she might need it.
But when I returned to the bedroom, she was sitting up, looking confused.
“Hi,” she murmured. “I hoped it was you.”
“Who did you expect?” I teased. “The asshole from dinner?”
“I hoped not.”
Without thinking, I sat down on the bed beside her, handing her the pills. She took them and drank the water. “Two spritzers, eh?” I asked. “Pushover.”