Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I brush my hand across my neck, which is definitely pink from his lips, and take a seat in one of the chairs.
“How are you today, Ms. Thatcher?”
I smile at the assistant. “I’m good.” I tug down my skirt that’s riding a few inches higher than it should be. “Good, yeah. How are you?”
She tries in vain to quell her smile. “Great. Dr. Foxe has been in a really good mood lately.”
Adam is busy administering the shots and then showering Mouse with treats. Still, I can see the smile he’s trying to hide.
When the assistant makes a move to exit the room, I stand. “Is that all? I’ll follow you out to handle the bill.”
The assistant glances between Adam and me. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? You get the family and friends discount.”
I arch a brow at Adam. “Lucky me.”
When I leave a few minutes later, every pair of eyes in the reception area is trained on me. The gossip is going to get around town quickly enough, and though I should mind, I don’t—not one bit.
Tonight, Adam is going to make roasted chicken with rosemary potatoes, and then after, I’m going to seduce him on my couch. I’m not sure which part I’m more excited about.
No, the chicken.
Definitely the chicken.
…
Adam closes on the farmhouse a week later. We spend all morning at the title company as he signs the documents and finalizes the last few loose ends. I can hardly sit still in my chair knowing I’m seconds away from carrying a commission check to the bank. I have it all planned out: I’m going to pay my rent (and take care of all my overdue payments), sock away some money into savings, and maybe, finally take my car to get fixed. I don’t know who’s more excited about the last thing, Adam or me.
I offer to help him move in; he doesn’t have much since the house he was renting came fully furnished. There are a few boxes filled with his clothes and personal items, and even still, transporting everything only takes us two trips. We drop the boxes in the living room, stacked out of the way, and I take a second to inspect the empty space.
It’s a dream house—my dream house—but I haven’t said that to Adam. It seems like a strange thing to announce to a man you’ve just started dating. Oh, by the way, the house you just purchased is exactly the type of home where I want to raise my future family. Cool, huh? I might as well slip him a piece of paper with my ring size on it. It’s too much pressure. We aren’t even officially dating. Daisy asked about it last night.
“He’s not my boyfriend, per se,” I explain.
“What do you mean? You guys have been inseparable lately.”
“Yeah, well, it’s still new and there’s no rush to stick a label on it.”
She hums like she doesn’t quite believe me. “Do you want to avoid labels or does Adam want to avoid labels?”
“Me. Adam. We both do, I think.”
“Don’t you get confused?”
“What’s confusing?”
“Are you guys exclusive?”
“I am.”
“And Adam?”
I sigh, trying to convey how freaking annoying she’s being. “I don’t know, Daisy.”
“YOU DON’T KNOW?!”
“I haven’t seen him with anyone else! And to be honest, I don’t know how he’d have the time. We’re together every day.” I’m 99% sure he isn’t seeing anyone else, but I haven’t asked. It seems like such a heavy and awkward conversation to have this early on.
“Sounds like you’re setting yourself up for a lot of miscommunication.”
“Weird, I think I’m missing some communication right now. The signal is breaking up. Gotta go.”
“Tell your boyfriend—oh, I mean your friend with no labels and no strings attached—that I said hi.”
I hang up on her.
Now, 24 hours later, I’m annoyed to find that Daisy’s seed has taken root in my thoughts. Are we exclusive? Do I even want to be exclusive? Ha. The girl who has been eternally single for the last few years isn’t sure if she’s ready to settle down; that’s rich. A month ago, I’d have gone on a date with Mr. Boggs had he asked politely.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts when Adam opens the French doors that lead out to the wraparound porch and tells me to wait for him out there. Mouse runs out before me, taking full advantage of the fenced in acres that sit around Adam’s house. The closest neighbor might as well be on another planet. Out here, it feels like we have the entire world to ourselves.
I take a seat on the porch steps and watch as Mouse tracks a squirrel and takes off. Then he spots a rabbit and doubles back. He is in doggy heaven.
Adam brings out a chilled bottle of champagne and two plastic cups.
“Time to celebrate?” I ask, taking the cups so he can pop the cork.