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 laughed as I stood and took our plates. “More like they’ll ask how to get in on the gig. Jealous old bats.”
He pulled me down and kissed me. “Incorrigible,” he repeated.
“And you love it.”
I stayed busy putting out the “shit” I bought. I wondered how long it would take him to notice the doormat I put on his front step. It was plain except for the words, WE DON’T WANT ANY, in the corner with capital letters. It made me laugh because it was so Thorne. I knew as soon as he found it, I would hear about it.
I headed to the backyard when I heard him call my name.
“Okay, I need you to take that piece of wood—” he pointed to the long one close to me “—over to the platform I’ve got ready. I’ll finish cutting this one and come and mark where I need to cut the forty-five-degree angles.”
“Okay.”
I picked up the heavy cedar and swung around without thinking. I heard the crack of the wood hitting something and turned back, seeing Jesse stumbling and holding his head.
“Oh my God!” I yelled.
In my panic, I spun the opposite way, this time clocking him on the other side of his head. He went down like a sack of potatoes, and I dropped the wood, racing over to him. I tore off my hoodie, tucking it under his head, propping it up.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “Oh God, Jesse, are you hurt?”
He blinked, staring up at me.
I cupped his face. “Jesse, talk to me.”
“Who are you?”
I gasped in shock, and he winked.
“Stop it!”
“Seriously,” he muttered. “I had no idea you were still pissed over this morning.” He rubbed his head. “Jesus, woman, for a pixie, you pack a wallop.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I wailed.
He rubbed my arm. “I know. But seriously.”
I ran my hands over his head. “Oh my God, there’s a bump. We need to go to the hospital.”
He laughed, although he winced when he did. “Not that much of a wallop.”
“You could have a concussion. You might lie down and die. I have to take you!”
“I don’t have a concussion. I have a bump because you whacked me with a piece of timber. I’m not going to die.” His gaze kept bouncing around, and his lips twitched.
I was terrified he was about to have a seizure.
“I feel awful,” I exclaimed. “What can I do?”
“A blow job would help,” he deadpanned.
I stared down at him. “How can you think of sex right now?”
“Well, your cupcake has no wrapper.”
“What?”
He grinned. “The puppy has escaped the playground.”
I stared at him, horrified. He wasn’t making sense. He was completely delirious. He had a brain injury because I’d hit him with a piece of wood—twice.
“You’re talking gibberish. I hit you too hard.” I grabbed his arm. “I’m calling 9-1-1.”
He sighed. “Casey, once again, you are flashing me.”
I glanced down, seeing my left breast had come out of the tank I was wearing. It must have done so as I’d torn my hoodie over my head.
“When I see your breasts, sex does take over my thoughts.”
As nonchalantly as I could, I put it back into place.
“Well, they are one of my finest assets.”
“Yes, they are.”
He got up and stretched, rolling his shoulders with a sigh. “See, I’m fine. Can we get back to building your box now?”
“You don’t want to get in my box?”
He blinked. Then he started to laugh. “Later. Once the tools are put away and there is nothing for you to impale me with.”
“Then you’ll impale me?”
That did it.
He pulled me off the ground and kissed me. Then to prove he was fine, he tossed me over his shoulder and headed inside.
I was starting to like this.
Later that night, Jesse lay with his head on my lap. I rested against the headboard, stroking his hair and reading. Barney and Miller were at the end of the bed, sleeping next to each other as usual.
I glanced down, smiling. Jesse’s eyes were shut, but a smile played on his lips. He had one hand resting over his chest, and he looked almost blissful.
Earlier today, I’d discovered his kryptonite. He loved having his head rubbed.
And I enjoyed doing it. I found it relaxing and a mindless pleasure as I read quietly.
It struck me that we were the picture of domesticity. Lying in bed, reading, being quiet, and happy to do so.
“What are you thinking of?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Nothing much. You kissed me in the parking lot earlier.”
“I did.”
“What if someone had seen? You wanted this private.”
“And it is. No one saw us.”
I hummed and flipped the page in my Kindle. A long finger reached over the top, pulling the device down. “Are you worried about someone seeing us?” he asked.
“Not for me. I’ll be leaving, but you live here. I don’t want you to regret us being seen.”