Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
“It’s good,” I say, and he nods in agreement.
Marley reaches out and swipes his thumb across the corner of my mouth. I see a dash of icing on it before he brings it to his mouth and licks it off. It's a simple act, but it makes heat settle deep in my stomach in a way it never has before.
“I don’t think I’d miss the city,” I tell him when he steps over to the fridge. Did my voice come out all breathy? What is wrong with me? I clear my throat and try again. “It’s the only place I really know, but the city hasn’t been good to me.”
People think if you’re in a big city with people everywhere, it’s not lonely. That’s far from the truth. I mean, I was spoken to more in the small town of Cheerful in the one hour I was there than the whole time I’ve lived in the city. Like, ever!
“It can be rough there,” Marley says. “I enjoy it out here more than I thought. I feel more creative.”
For the short time I’ve been here, I can totally see that. It’s peaceful in a way I’ve never experienced.
“The only thing I create is chaos. Oh, and little creatures.” I hold my fingers up about five or six inches apart to show him how small they are.
“Creatures?”
“I’ll show you.”
I hop down from my seat and go in search of my bag. Marley brought it in earlier with everything else, and I find it next to the front door. I carry it back to the kitchen and start digging through the mess.
“I got some in here somewhere, and I hope they’re okay.” I scowl into the chaos of my bag and keep digging. “Where the heck are you?”
Giving up, I turn my bag over and dump it out. I squeak when a million and one things spill out over the counter and a few items hit the floor. I glance at Marley, who chuckles, making me relax. Maybe he really does like my quirks.
“If this is chaos, I’m good with it.” He bends down and picks up the items that fell, one of them being my phone.
“Here,” I say, when I find the orange squirrel with a white belly. “I crochet.”
“It’s cute.” He takes it from me and smiles down at it.
“You can have it,” I tell him, and his eyes light up.
“Really?”
“Merry Christmas,” I sing-song.
“Thank you, beauty. I’ll treasure it.” That’s the second time he’s called me that. Yes, I’m counting.
Marley goes back to cooking, and we fall into easy conversation. He asks me more questions about crocheting, and I ask him about writing.
“You sound like you love it,” I say when he tells me about how the stories are alive inside his mind.
“Do what you love—”
“And you’ll never work a day in your life,” I say, finishing the quote. I’ve heard it a thousand times, but he’s someone that actually lives by it.
“That’s right,” he says and then looks back at me. “What would you do if you could have any job?”
“I’m guessing one of those panda cuddlers isn’t realistic?" I joke. “But in all seriousness, I don’t think the job I want exists.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, this is going to sound lame, but I’d love to cross-stitch while listening to romance audiobooks and drinking hot chocolate with so many marshmallows it upsets my stomach.”
He smirks. “You never know. That’s the kind of job you can do here.”
“But it isn’t a job.”
“I could use an assistant,” he offers, and I know he’s only being nice because the man seems to be a saint.
“That would be a hell of a drive to work every day,” I tease.
“You’d stay here.” He’s completely serious when he says this, and I stare at him. His expression doesn’t change as I laugh it off.
“Right, let’s circle back to that after you’ve spent a few days with me.”
I’m sure by then he’ll have a change of heart. Everyone always does.
Chapter Ten
MARLEY
I’ve never had such an amazing night in my entire life. After dinner we built the gingerbread house together and talked non-stop. I kept being surprised at how much we had in common, not only with our love of reading but with shows and movies we liked.
She didn’t believe me until I told her the entire plot to The Devil Wears Prada and why Andy’s boyfriend Nate is the real villain. Belle laughed, but when I explained that writing horror all day means I have to decompress with something that makes me feel good, she got it.
Belle told me about all of her favorite romances, and I downloaded some so I could read them too. I guessed a few of them were explicit based on her face getting really red when I downloaded them. That made me want to read them even more.