Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
His … very plentiful crotch.
Nope, definitely not wearing underwear.
As he lifts and dips the teabag in his mug of hot water over and over, I watch the bicep in his arm bulge. In the bright morning daylight, I see so much more of him, and I can confidently say, my attraction to the man was not in any way misplaced. He hides nothing unflattering in the dark; every part of him is beautiful.
And his beauty in the daylight is a bit devastating after the kind of night we had, with so much soul-baring. I felt more vulnerable last night than I had in a long time, and all Coop did was protect me—both from others and myself.
I fucking hope I don’t scare him away.
I don’t make a sound, but he looks up suddenly, maybe sensing me. “Morning.”
I stay at the doorframe uncertainly. “Morning.”
“Hungry? I can whip us up some eggs and toast.”
My stomach immediately growls before I can answer. I guess he hears it, because he sets down his tea and gets to work pulling stuff out of the fridge. After a brief moment, I come down the hall and hover near the counter, watching as he works. I’m not sure what to say, so I say nothing.
The floodgates open over breakfast when we’re eating at a tiny table on the back porch I hadn’t noticed before. “These’re the best fucking eggs I’ve ever had,” I announce through my mouthful. I can’t eat them fast enough.
Cooper nods. “Sure seems like it.”
“How do you wake up to this view every morning and not just cry?” I ask, gesturing with my fork at the beach. “I mean, the ocean’s at your back doorstep. Hop down these little wood planks and you’ve got sand between your toes.”
“Like I said, you get used to—”
“Well, that’s gonna stop right now,” I say, cutting him off, which stuns him. “While I’m here, you won’t be used to a damned thing anymore. I’m gonna show you what I see however I can. This house is bomb. These eggs are bomb. That fucking view is fucking bomb. You don’t even know what you’ve got.” I laugh, feeling manic, as I fork more eggs past my lips.
Soon we’re finished, but we stay at the table, Cooper sipping his tea, me leaning back in my chair and listening to the waves.
“There’s no one out there,” I note.
“Sugarberry Beach,” he explains. “It’s quieter up here at the northwest corner of Dreamwood, away from all that noise at the south end with Breezeway Point or Quicksilver Strand—the boardwalk, the resorts, and my bar. Sometimes a few vacationers will find their way up here, but they tend to keep away. This is where us locals live.”
“Can I be a local?” I settle in my chair, feeling entirely too comfortable to be real. “I feel pretty special right now.”
He smirks. “Sure thing. Won’t even put you through all the tough initiations we usually do to newcomers.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” I throw my hands behind my head and lean back even more. “I feel like king of the beach.”
He doesn’t respond. I glance over to find him gazing at me with wonder in his eyes.
I frown. “What?”
He shrugs and sets down his tea. “I was just thinking a bit about last night. Things you mentioned. I don’t mean to dampen your beach vibes here …”
Oh, fuck. I drop my hands at once. “You gotta kick me out after all?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “What? No, no. Nothing like that. The opposite, actually. Offer still stands. Stay here as long as you need, and I’ll check on those hotels Monday. I was just gonna say that I …” He glances down at his tea to gather his thoughts, then looks at me. “I hope you’re okay. Truly okay. From whatever it is you’re getting away from.”
I don’t notice my foot hopping in place, then stop it. I clear my throat. “I’m okay now. Thanks to you.”
“And I know I said I wouldn’t pry,” he goes on, “but if there’s anything I need to know, let me know, alright? … Especially if there’s something I should know.”
I stare back at him. I can’t imagine what kind of things are going through his head. All I’ve done is let him guess who I really am—and still he trusts me enough to let me stay here. For all he knows, I’m a criminal. Or a murderer.
Oh. I didn’t think about that. “I didn’t kill anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
A flash of worry tightens his face.
Whoops. That was totally the wrong thing to say. “Just meant that I, uh … I’m not on the run from a crime. It’s my dad, like I said. He’s an asshole. The worst kind of asshole. The kind that even other assholes think is an asshole. I … I had to get away. At least for a little bit.” I struggle to keep my composure. “Well, for a while now, I guess. My mom’s gonna let me know when it’s okay to come back, like I told you. My issue is just a family thing.”