Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I tossed and turned, my thigh aching, my stomach twisting into knots, the overthinking bringing on a headache.
I was hyper-aware of Rook in the other room.
For the first hour or so, he was still dealing with pain, judging by his labored breathing and occasional quiet curses as he—I imagined—tried to shift his position.
But, eventually, he went silent and I knew he was asleep.
I folded up, staring blankly at the old black-and-white cop drama playing on the TV.
Some part of me just wanted to tiptoe around the apartment, gathering my things in my arms, then rushing down to my car, throwing everything in, and driving out of town.
But I couldn’t do that.
There was too much riding on this working out.
Money.
And the security that came with that.
But also… protection.
I couldn’t screw this up.
I had to get control over myself and take this job seriously. Because that’s exactly what it was. A job. A role I was playing.
None of this was real.
At that thought, though, my sex clenched, reminding me that while the relationship was indeed fake, the interest my body felt was quite real.
I couldn’t say how long I sat there, trying to reason with my body, listing all the reasons I had to make this work.
Eventually, though, I must have fallen asleep sitting up, because that was how I woke up, curled up against the back cushion, knees to my chest, blanket pulled up to my chin.
“Ow,” I grumbled when a sharp pain shot up the back of my neck.
“Should have stayed in the bed,” Rook said from the kitchen as I lowered myself flat on the cushions, doing a long cat stretch until some of the zaps and zings from sleeping in a cramped position eased.
It was from flat on my back that I smelled something. Something eggy and cheesy and mapley.
“Are you cooking?” I asked, angling my head back to glance over at him.
He stood in the kitchen wearing nothing but those damn pajama pants. They seemed lower slung than usual, revealing his long, toned torso. He wasn’t damn near a bodybuilder like Detroit was. But Rook had that deceptive skinny, gamer guy physique that actually had a whole, but subtle, six-pack.
And those little lines that disappeared into his waistband? Criminal.
“Yep. We have a long day ahead of us.”
“We do?” I asked. I’d just been planning to pick up more delivery jobs.
“We’re getting engaged today,” he informed me.
“Oh, wow, look at us,” I said, folding up. “Moving right along.”
“Yeah. I figured it had to be something kind of grand. But to do that, I think we need some fuel.”
“Why do I feel like I should be worried?”
“Well, that depends.”
“On?”
“How you feel about a little hike.”
“A hike.”
“In the Death Valley mountains.”
“Why there?” I asked, thinking of the range that glowered down on Shady Valley.
“You can’t really tell from this side, but if you get in there, the rocks actually come in shades of pink, blue, green, and gold. It’s pretty as fuck. Seemed like a great place for a photo op. I bought a tripod and everything.”
“Oh, okay. Well. I’m not a hiker. So I reserve the right to complain a solid thirty percent of the time.”
To that, Rook shot me a warm smile. “Me either. So I’ll likely be bitching the other seventy. But we gotta make it look good for Nancy.”
“True,” I agreed. “So how far into the mountains are the pretty rocks?”
“My best gauge is about five to six miles in.”
I was relatively sure I didn’t walk five or six miles in a month, let alone a day. “Okay. How long does that take?”
“If it was flat, maybe only an hour or an hour and a half. But given the terrain, maybe two and a half hours.”
“Each way.”
“Yeah. Hence the big breakfast bribe,” he said, waving toward the stove.
I moved closer, seeing cheesy scrambled eggs, sausage links, and breakfast potatoes with onions.
“This… and maybe a quick stop at the clubhouse for a coffee might take my complaints down to only twenty percent of the time.”
“I think that’s more than a fair deal.” He reached up for plates, then started to load them up.
“Should I be finding something cute to wear?” Not that I really had anything.
“I think normal clothes are smart. It will make it seem like we were just engaging in our mutual hiking hobby,” he said, shooting me a smirk, “and I sprang the proposal on you.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, turning and making my way to the bathroom.
By the time I came back out, Rook had our plates on the dreaded couch.
“How’s your back feeling?” I asked as I sat down, careful to keep several safe inches between us.
“Better today.”
“Good enough for a hike?”
“I think so. I might pay for it tomorrow, but we need to get this step over with.”
“I’ll pick up a bunch of wedding magazines at the grocery store to throw around the apartment next time I pick up a job. That’s something a newly engaged woman would do. Oh my God,” I said, eyes closing as I finally took my first bite.