Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
It was stupid, but I could feel the smile on my face as I stared at Luke Duchesne. I didn’t recall the jeans being that tight when he walked out the door earlier in the morning, but I noticed now. Those legs of his had to be something under the buttery denim.
“Nash?”
I lifted my head quickly, mortified he might have noticed me, and felt my cheeks heat like I was twenty-two, not fifty-two. “Sorry, I—the voice is the same on the alarm I have at home, so I think it’s drilled into my psyche at this point.”
He nodded, shut the door behind him, then closed the distance between us, studying me, scrutinizing me, then reaching out and taking hold of my hips. I had to wonder if he knew he did that. A lot. I was guessing no.
For the past eleven days since he got home, twelve counting today, he had constantly been in my space. He bumped me, touched me, held my jacket so I could put it on, opened doors, and more than anything, took hold of me and steered me places. My initial thought had been that he did it to everyone. But the people I saw him with—neighbors, friends, coworkers—none did he stand so close to, put his arm around the back of their chair, or take hold of. It seemed I was the only one he was touching possessively, other than his kids. He would grab Griff’s shoulder, Tatum’s hand, Darwin’s arm the same way he did with me, like I belonged to him. And I loved it, of course I did, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t messing with my head.
“You must not have fallen,” he said, and I noted how dark and warm his eyes appeared. Like looking at me was making them heat. “I’m happy about that.”
“What?”
“You said you were going up on the roof to move a camera.”
“Oh no, I haven’t done that yet.”
“Well, maybe you wait on that.”
Instead of committing, I said, “What’re you doing home?”
“Getting hit on by new transplants to town was my single appointment for the day, so I’m working from home now.”
“That’s great. Now I can run some errands and you’ll be here to accept deliveries.”
“Deliveries?” he asked, letting me go but remaining close, in my space. I could feel the heat rolling off him.
“It’s a lot of kids,” I reminded him, “so it’s a lotta food, right? I didn’t have room in the Jeep for everything. But the store said they could get everything over here by—”
“What’re you talking about?”
I grinned at him. “You’re fucking with me.”
“What? No. We have three kids. That number hasn’t changed.”
We have. God. He was killing me.
The issue was simple to understand. Day in and day out, a kind, sexy, funny, drop-dead-gorgeous man was giving me all his attention, and I didn’t simply like it, but had already gotten used to receiving it. And I told myself it was fine because I was leaving fairly soon, but really, for my sanity, the week after Thanksgiving couldn’t come soon enough.
“Explain,” he prodded me, bringing me out of my head.
“You weren’t listening to me.”
“When?”
“You know when.”
“What?”
He was so busted. I smiled at him.
“Fine. I was tired and may have been nodding off.”
After all the homework had been completed, after Griff and I ran together, once all the screens were off, instead of going to bed to watch TV alone, Luke now sat in the living room with the rest of us, reading and talking, until about a half hour before the last bedtime, which was Griff’s.
Tatum went to bed at eight thirty, so she had to be upstairs and under the covers by eight, but everyone was allowed to read in their bed, just no screens. Darwin’s bedtime was nine, so when Tatum, in theory, was falling asleep, he had to be upstairs. Griff’s was at ten thirty, so he had to be up in his room by ten. Everyone had to be showered and ready to sack out. I thought Griff would still be fighting sleep to the last moment, but he was eating better because he was cooking, he ran with me, lifted weights with his father, woke up every morning at a quarter to seven, so really, at night, he was out like a light. The fact that it was dark so early was also a big plus. The summer, I was betting, would be more difficult.
But last night, we were all on the sectional, Tatum stretched out talking to Wink, Griff on his phone with Sean and Benny on Discord, looking up and discussing recipes for shrimp tacos. Darwin was outlining a report for his urban archaeology class—when I was going to school there was nothing called that—and Luke, who I thought was awake, was actually fading beside me as I texted with Rais. He and Sienna had driven over to check on my place. My three-bedroom apartment, in a historic building in Oak Park, had beautiful hardwood floors, tiles with marble wainscoting in both bathrooms, a stained-glass window in the fully remodeled kitchen, and wide window ledges for sitting. The apartments in the building were all spacious, the others having more bedrooms. I had changed mine, opened up the floor plan when I moved in, since there was only me and visiting friends. Rais said Sienna was impressed with all the turn-of-the-century architecture, but even more with my neighbors. I was at the top of the three-story walk-up, and I’d been there for ten years. Below me were the Kaufmans—Ezra, Matal, and their three boys, who’d been there for twenty-two years—and below them, Carlos Dominguez, his wife, Beatrice, and their three kids, there for eighteen years. Even picking up my mail, Rais and Sienna were greeted warmly. Rais had passed Sienna his phone, and she’d gushed in text after text about my home, which she described as a calm oasis, as well as close to all the best restaurants, clubs, and shopping.